


look up here, i'm in heaven

by rainbowsedge (orphan_account)



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Actor Harry Styles, Actor Zayn Malik, Alternate Universe - Actors, Anxiety, Bottom Harry, Closeted Character, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, Gay Sex, Heavy Angst, Homophobia, Light Angst, M/M, Sexy Zayn Malik, Soft Harry Styles, Top Zayn, Virgin Harry Styles, but then lots of it, normal unlike my other fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2020-10-26 14:39:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 56,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20743853
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/rainbowsedge
Summary: “Do I?” Harry squeaked, and Zayn smiled again, shaking his head slightly and looking away.“You’re a cutie, you know that? That’s what everyone on set calls you. You bring cookies and say thank you for the littlest things, get nervous and apologize when you mess up on the first take.”Harry crushes on his co-star, and even though they can't afford to fall in love, maybe it'll be okay as a secret.orZayn and Harry are famous actors who were cast to play an assassin and the assassin's target, respectively.(5k-8k words per chapter, substantial-ish. title is from "lazarus" by david bowie)





	1. his fingerprints got all over my stuff

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dunklenacht310](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dunklenacht310/gifts).

> **By the time I got to New York,**   
**I was living like a king.**   
**There I used up all my money,**   
**I was looking for your ass.**
> 
> Imma cry less for this one, I think. It's really cute.  
And yes, the screenplay is supposed to be the beginning.

** _2019_ **

INT. A small cafe in a bright and cheery neighborhood, location is unknown. 

Enter ELI, the hired assassin in disguise, mysterious, tall, lean, and should have an unreadable expression on his face. He scans the coffee shop, looking for his target, a bluetooth device fitted in one ear and he walks further into the establishment as he stuffs his keys and his phone in his back pockets, warily eyeing the area until he gets to the counter.

ELI (smooth and low) 

Caramel Macchiato, please. 

BARISTA is obviously very attracted to him.

BARISTA 

Of course! What size would you like? 

ELI looks up at the overheard chalkboards where the menu items were handwritten neatly.

ELI 

I’d like a medium size, please. 

BARISTA 

Of course, right away. 

They ring ELI up and he pays, walks away from the counter, back to his subtle pursuit.

At the corner table tucked away beside the counter, EBELE is sitting cross-legged and staring out the window while holding his hot drink in both hands. He has located the target. 

ELI changes his unreadable expression significantly, to that of someone with an intent to flirt. ELI calmly walks over to EBELE and makes his presence known by waving at him in their reflection of the very clean glass window, focusing in on EBELE’S startled reaction. 

ELI (while sitting down) 

Hi, I just, I noticed you from across the room and I just--you’re very--gosh, I don’t know what I’m saying, I--I just had to come over to tell you that I think you’re the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen. 

EBELE looks at him and blinks, then motions for ELI to take the seat across from him. 

EBELE 

Thank you, I guess. Sorry, I just don’t really get those kinds of compliments often, especially from someone who’s very handsome himself. 

ELI chuckles small, looking down shyly. (Somehow, one could tell it is acting.) 

EBELE 

Hi, Eli. 

ELI’S head snaps back up in shock, eyes widened and expression turned to that of fear. He’s been made, the job is ruined and he’s going to get scrapped--- 

EBELE 

I guess you don’t remember me. We went to the same school, the only two people with names that start with ‘E.’ 

ELI relaxes, realizing that he did in fact, recognize EBELE from distant and far memories that he thought he had stored away years ago. He composes himself, licks his lips. 

ELI 

I do remember you, sorry, it’s just that...I guess my head subconsciously recognized those green eyes of yours. You look so different! You look...great. 

EBELE 

Thanks, you look like a stunning Greek god, as you always have. 

ELI shifts uncomfortably as camera zooms in to the Bluetooth device hidden in his ear, changing setting to a man in a dark room, staring intently into his computer as the electronic light creates a glare on his glasses. In the small reflection, we see that this man had been watching the conversation the whole time through a body camera. 

DAN furrows his brow as ELI decides to keep on talking to EBELE more about their history. 

DAN 

Eli, get the fuck out of there. You’re not fit to do this, we’re going to send someone else in to get the job done. 

ELI twitches slightly, but ignores it. 

EBELE 

So what are you up to nowadays? We spent 12 years together and then you just kind of...disappeared on us. Remember Annie? She’s a mom now. 

ELI can’t help but smile at the mention of another friend he had forgotten so long ago. The memories are affecting him greatly, making him smile but his eyes grow sad. 

ELI 

That’s so great to hear. I’m a private investigator. 

ELI has practiced scripts of what he would say when asked certain unanswerable questions. Now lying is as easy as breathing. 

EBELE (astonished) 

Wow, that’s really quite cool. I’m kind of boring, I’m a kindergarten teacher. 

ELI cannot help but let his smile falter. A kindergarten teacher? 

DAN (stiffly and flatly) 

Agent Romeo, I repeat, Agent Romeo. Get. Out. 

EBELE (stammering, nervously looking left and right, rambling) 

Your hair still looks just as great as I remember it, I really liked when you used to let it do crazy things after just slapping some hair gel in. Oh! And...you have really nice eyes too, Eli. Now that we’re talking as adults, I thought...I guess I should just come out with it and say that I had a really big crush on you when we were kids, so it was honestly kind of shocking when you suddenly appeared today and said that I--that I was the most beautiful boy you’d ever seen. 

ELI (laughs softly) 

Annie used to call me ‘bambi eyes.’ 

EBELE (softly, looking right at ELI.) 

Yeah. 

The light is hitting EBELE from the side, but he still looks gorgeous, how the sun was showing all the multiples shades of brown his curly brown hair actually are, the green in his eyes striking and lips flushed. He looked very different, that was obvious, he used to be ELI’S nerd lil sidekick that he considered like a brother. 

What happened to  _ that  _ ELI? 

DAN (suddenly after a long pause) 

Agent Romeo, Flight Risk’s there. If you don’t get out, he’s going to kick you out. That or...Guinness is positioned in the building across from you and has a clear shot. 

  
“Uh...line?” 

"Cut!" 

_Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing!_

A large bell bellows a sharp cry as the man holding the boom mike sighed in relief, setting down the mic and rolling his shoulders. Harry apologetically looked at the director, who waved it off for him to not worry about it. 

“It was my line, actually.” Zayn piped up kindly, getting up from the prop chair and smiling shyly at Harry. “I was supposed to grab you and cover your back to get you out.” 

Harry gulped, eyebrows furrowed nervously at his handsome co-star. “I’m sorry for ruining the scene.” 

“Don’t worry about it, babe.” Zayn grinned, walking to the makeup artist when she whistled him over. 

_ He called me babe _ . Harry’s breathing began to hitch, his mouth was so dry and his head kind of hurt from focusing so hard. 

“Harry, love! Come here,” The director called for him, a very short man with thinning hair but had a great laugh. “We made some really good progress today, we might even be able to go home early today.” 

“But I...but I didn’t finish the scene?” Harry flinched when an attendant covered him with a blanket and handed him a bottle of water. His thank you was silent when he realized that she was already bee-lining to accomplish another task. 

“Oh, you’re so cute,” The director pinched his cheek. “Sunshine, I’ve worked with plenty of spoiled drama queens who couldn’t even get five seconds done in a whole day. You’re a talent, a natural!” He cooed when Harry smiled. 

“We’re calling it a day!” The assistant bellowed out to the rest of the studio, shaking her head fondly when a series of cheers erupted from behind the set. Harry watched as Zayn gently pawed the makeup artist away at the sound of work ending, harshly rubbing at his face with a makeup wipe. When he finished, he made a face at himself in the mirror and energetically leaped out of the chair. 

“See you tomorrow, Billy!” Zayn patted the director’s shoulder, who rolled his eyes at him playfully. “Get some rest, babe. You did great today.” He winked at Harry, who was suddenly beginning to feel very weak in the knees. 

Sandra, the director’s primary assistant, came over to rub at Harry’s adorable head of hair. “Sweetie, I can see the love radiating out of your eyes from a mile away. Word of advice? Don’t date co-stars or actors in general. They’re all big pieces of shit at the end of the day.” 

Harry looked up at her and nodded silently, and she smiled, her perfectly white teeth peeking through her perfectly applied red lipstick. 

Harry’s agent was heading towards him, smiling wide at him. “Haz!” 

“Hi, Lou.” Harry giggled when Louis nearly tripped over himself on a couple of light fixture wires. “Be careful.” 

“Just talked to Billy, he said that you were absolutely amazing today, gosh, I don’t think I’ve ever been this proud. He’s already going on about putting you in his next movie once this one’s over!” Louis came over to hug him, peppering kisses all over his face. 

“I guess I’ll be busy, then.” Harry giggled when Louis tickled his neck. His attention shifted when he saw Zayn running past, his agent screaming a string of curses while tailing after him. He was laughing loudly and mischievously jumping up and down around set. 

“Don’t injure the face!” His agent, Alex, shrieked desperately. “Zayn! Do you hear me? One of these days I’m going to die because of you. We still haven’t talked about that girl that was papped outside your house this morning!” 

“What a nightmare, am I right? I’m so lucky to represent my cute and sweet Harry. Oh look, now the fucker thinks he can do parkour.” Louis snorted, and they walked back together to the company car. “Need a lift anywhere?” 

“No, I think I’ll just go home.” Harry got in, still unable to drown out the sound of Zayn’s laughter and the look of pure joy spread across his stunning face. 

Louis rolled his eyes knowingly, “Forget it, Haz. He’s a player, six different boyfriends and girlfriends in the last year, scandals upon scandals, a total sleaze. I will never let you get corrupted by the likes of him, no matter how fucking sexy the motherfucker is--” 

“I get it, I get it.” Harry sighed, sliding down in his seat and closing his eyes. 

* * *

It had been so long since Harry had developed a crush, which was surprising considering he’d been surrounded by beautiful people for the last ten years. He was one of the few actors that was openly gay, without any problematic opinions, not a single scandal on his track record. Louis always joked that it was because he was such a good friend and manager/agent, but everyone who’s met Harry could understand why his record was so clean. 

_ So fucking pure! Soft! Lovable!  _

Gosh, and the fanfictions that he would be a part of, the list of people that he had been matched up with online was nearly endless, starting with Liam Payne, the guy who plays “Flight Risk” in the current movie. Sure, Liam was fit, but Harry had never seen Liam jump around energetically even after shooting for twelve hours, or buy everyone in the studio lunch, or run around like a child while his agent chased after him.

This wasn’t even their first project together, Zayn had once guest-starred in an episode on the show that Harry was a regular in, but of course, Harry was much too shy to even look in his general direction at the time. Funnily enough, Harry was at his wildest during those days, when he'd actually go out at night, attend parties and drink lots. 

It made sense that Zayn had so many admirers and celebrities who willingly ruined themselves for him. He was gorgeous, immensely talented, and just...electric. Yeah, that’s the word. He makes Harry feel  _ electric _ . And he had been staring longingly for what felt like so long, but it seemed everyone and their mother were completely against him ever dating Zayn “motherfucking” Malik. He was so infamous for being a little shit to the point where everyone who worked in Hollywood referred to that as his full name. 

Hell, apart from when they were filming, it felt like Harry wasn’t even allowed to have a conversation with him (if only he had the courage to do so in the first place). His company had made every little thing set up for a purpose, Harry’s image, the people he “dated,” even his top-floor penthouse apartment felt isolating and too big most of the time. After all, he was but a small person who only needed a bed and a reading light. It almost felt selfish, coming home to himself every night. 

So perhaps watching from afar would have to do, and dreaming of a world where he had confidence and Zayn wasn’t a playboy. Once, he pondered if the roles were reversed and Harry was the playboy, what life could be like. 

After stopping at a restaurant for some lunch, Harry’s face tucked under a dark cap and covered with a hoodie, they finally arrived in front of Harry’s building, a fancy roundabout golden skyscraper with a doorman and a concierge. Harry waved Louis goodbye, kissing him on the cheek sweetly before getting out of the car. 

“Good afternoon, Mr. Styles,” Benji, the young doorman tipped his hat slightly, he was 19 years old and still being trained by his senior mentor, he also totally had a crush on Harry. “You’re home early today.” 

“Wrapped up pretty fast,” Harry reached into his bag, pulling out a small thing wrapped in plastic. “I made cookies, and I can’t eat them all because I’ll get fat, so I’ve been passing them around. I saved one for you because I know you work the noon to nine shift.” 

Benji visibly blushed, his shoulders broad, jawline sculpted, height intimidating, but his eyes were kind. He took the cookie and smiled at Harry breathlessly, and Harry responded by giving him a wave and going into the building by himself. 

The elevator was speedy and smelled very nice, the speaker emitting soft music as Harry’s ears began to pop slightly from the sudden altitude change. It was only about ten seconds before he reached the top floor, the elevator dinging and revealing the single door in the entire hallway. Isolating. 

He ‘hmmed’ to himself slightly, walking over to the keypad and pressing in the familiar sound frequencies that the high-security system would emit with each syllable he pressed in. It made a sound when the door unlocked, and he walked right in. 

Tonight was going to be like any other night, he decided, he didn’t have many friends to invite over, nor did he have any other work-related things to attend to. After showering and spreading a clay mask all over his face, he walked back into the living room, fed his fish and slumped onto the couch, turning Netflix on the excessively large flat screen.  He ended up falling asleep four episodes into Gilmore Girls when a desperate and loud knocking noise punctuated the air, waking him up with a squeal and kicking the air to propel him up. 

He looked like a hot mess, his hair was still wet when he fell asleep, so the side he slept on was flattened while the other was completely dry and frizzy. The clay mask had hardened, he was wearing his oversized “Guns N Roses” tee-shirt as he sleepily stumbled around his apartment. “Okay, okay, goodness gracious.” His eyes were half-closed when he opened the door, meeting face to face with a man’s chest. 

But the chest was oddly familiar. Harry slowly looked up, and then screamed for dear life, slamming the door on the man’s face and continuing to shriek as his green clay mask cracked off his face.  He leaped four feet into the air, running to his bathroom and rapidly washing his cheeks and forehead, whimpering and crying again when he saw the state of his hair, freaking out and around. 

Then the knocking started once more, and Harry began to wail, running to his phone and yelling at Siri to call Louis. 

“Haz? Haz, what’s wrong? It’s only 7:30, it hasn’t even gotten dark yet—“ Louis spoke through the phone as Harry paced back and forth in the living room. 

“Za—“ 

“Hm?” 

“Za…Z...Nuh uh, I can’t do this.” Harry pulled at his hair, scaring himself when he saw himself in the hallway mirror. 

“What? What’s happening?” 

“Zayn motherfucking Malik is at my house, Louis!” Harry screamed, beginning to hyperventilate. “And he saw me—he saw me like this! I’m going to die, I’m going to die I’m going to die—“ 

“You’re not going to die. Why’s he there?” Louis reasoned as Harry pulled a beanie over his head. 

Harry had enough sense this time to turn on the door camera, to just make sure he was right and wasn’t just seeing things. 

To his horror, there Zayn was, actually, tangibly, unmistakably. Even worse, he was holding a bloody nose within his hand and groaning, still knocking on Harry’s door. 

“I…I…” 

“What? What happened?” 

“I broke Zayn motherfucking Malik.” 

“Hm?” 

Harry hung up and opened the door, eyes as wide as dinner plates. “I’m so sorry,” His face crumpled and he began to cry again, but didn’t have enough time to get a few shaky breaths in before Zayn gripped his arms and walked him backward, shutting the door quickly and breathing out through his mouth. “I’m so sorry, ‘M so sorry, ‘M so soww—“ 

“You got an ice pack, babe?” Zayn’s voice sounded uncharacteristically nasally as he rinsed his hands off in Harry’s kitchen sink, pulling a few sheets of paper towels and holding it to his nose. 

“Hm?” Harry was frozen, he suddenly felt like a stranger in his own house, “Did—wasn’t I the one that did that?” He outstretched his whole arm just as Zayn was walking forwards and nearly took his eye out from initially trying to point at his nose. “Ah! I’m sorry,” 

“Don’t worry about it, the girl downstairs has done worse.” 

“Is it because of the supermodel that left your house this morning?” Harry asked, his voice sounding innocent and small. He walked over to the freezer and pulled out a gel ice pack, wrapping it with more paper towels and handing it to Zayn. 

“Nice shirt.” Zayn commented, lifting his chin up and holding the ice to his face. Harry looked down and went beet red when he realized that he was wearing super short shorts and a giant old concert tee. “You like Led Zeppelin too? Red Hot Chili Peppers? Blink-182?” 

Harry nodded, and Zayn sat down on his couch, already making himself comfortable. 

“My girlfriend’s the one who lives downstairs. She hates me. It’s okay.” Zayn shrugged, wearing a leather jacket and looking delicious even with blood drying on his face, hair perfectly whipped and sweat naturally highlighting his cheekbones. It really just wasn't fair when a person had it all, Harry thought, but then snapped back to gratitude when he realized that he was able to interact with this god of a man every day when others would sell their soul to even catch a glimpse of his face in person. 

“Did you—did you sleep with her?” 

“Who, my girlfriend?” 

“No,” Harry nervously sat down at the other end of the couch, as far from Zayn as possible. Zayn noticed, eyeing him like he was being strange. “Your...the lady who was papped this morning.” 

“Oh yeah, her,” Zayn sighed, his nose already beginning to feel a bit better. “We didn’t fuck. She just came over to come over, I told her to leave, got her an Uber and everything but she never left.” 

“Oh,” Harry frowned, “That’s a bit rude.” 

Zayn smiled small, looking over at Harry again, who felt like he was going to crumble again. 

_ He’s looking at me. Me, not as Ebele.  _

“Are you...scared of me or somethin’?” Zayn asked, taking the ice pack away from his face and wiping his nose with the now wet paper towels that were nestled around it. “You look like a petrified kitten right now.” 

“Do I?” Harry squeaked, and Zayn smiled again, shaking his head slightly and looking away. 

“You’re a cutie, you know that? That’s what everyone on set calls you. You bring cookies and say thank you for the littlest things, get nervous and apologize when you mess up on the first take.” Zayn took off his jacket and walked over to the door again, looking to see if his rampaging girlfriend was anywhere in sight. “Had no idea you’re the one who lived up here.” 

_ He called me a cutie.  _

“Can’t believe I haven’t run into you till now.” 

“Stupid shitty doorman always makes me go through the employee entrance, fucker with the quiff and blue eyes, tall.” Zayn motioned on his own face the areas he was referring to. 

“Benji?” Harry cocked his head, and Zayn couldn’t help but look over at the small boy with his head cocked to the side and drowning in his shirt, drowning in this whole apartment. The couch was an 11 seater, the counter had seven bar stools tucked under it, the dining table could seat 16. When he looked up earlier to elevate his nose, he could probably guess and say that the ceiling was at least 30 feet tall. 

“His name’s Benji? Tch,” Zayn came back and sat back down on the couch, a little closer to Harry this time. “Looks like a Catholic momma’s boy.” 

Harry giggled, “He is. He used to be an altar boy.” 

Zayn cocked his head to the side, “So are you two…” 

Harry shook his head furiously, “Oh, no. Nuh uh, he’s just a friend.” 

“Oh, I see,” Zayn ended it, and now the room was pregnant with silence, Harry’s faint breathing and Zayn’s struggle to were the only sounds being heard in the room. “Wow, we’re as tall as the birds right now, they're flying on our level and shit. That’s kind of amazing. You can’t open any windows here, huh?” 

Harry shook his head, “Yeah, I can’t. But that’s why the whole apartment is fitted with an ongoing central air circulation system with air filters because of...my asthma.” He had no idea why he was telling Zayn this, but since he had already surprised himself by getting this far and even talking to him in the first place, why couldn't he? 

“That’s sick,” Zayn stood up again, walking to look at the view from the glass walls. “Shit, you can see the ocean from here.” 

Harry tried really hard not to notice how Zayn’s back muscles contracted and flexed when he moved to put his hands on his hips. “She’s not my girlfriend either, by the way. The one downstairs, she’s just…she was just supposed to pretend like we’re dating, but—Are those John-Richard Curved Alabaster wall sconces?” He turned again, walking further into Harry’s house to the main hallway, and of course, an anxious Harry now had to follow. 

“Yeah, my manager picked them out when I moved in,” Harry explained shyly, gulping when Zayn touched the wall with his hands as he looked straight up. “Do you like sconces…?”  _ So stupid.  _

Zayn burst out in laughter as if he couldn’t believe Harry really just asked that, shaking his head as he looked back to his eye level and turned to look at Harry. “Cute.” 

Harry’s breaths hitched, “O-oh.” 

“Yeah uh, my dad’s an architect and my mom’s an interior designer, so I guess I’m just trained to notice these things now. Like, I happen to know that these lamps are $980 apiece, so maybe I do really really love wall sconces.” Zayn chuckled again, biting his lower lip sexily as he pointed to another thing that he noticed. “You have one of those fridges that have a touchscreen on it.” 

“Yeah, so that Lou could set a reminder to make me eat the meal prep meals I get once a week,” Harry sighed, looking exhausted about what he was talking about. "Lou's my manager." 

Zayn winced, “Yikes, shortie, when’s the last time you’ve had some real food?” 

Harry looked up at him, fixing his large circle glasses and blinking at the god in front of him. “Why do you ask?” 

“I have to repay you somehow for letting me hide here from Little Miss Trust Fund’s wrath,” Zayn jokes, walking around to the couch and feeling the material underneath his fingertips. “You must be real rich, this fabric is hand-weaved." 

Harry scoffed, “And you aren’t?” 

Zayn didn’t say anything but smiled. He let go of the couch and headed over to the grand piano in the corner of the living room and whistled. “A Steinway? A motherfucking Steinway?” 

“My mom likes to practice when she comes over,” Harry explained little by little every part of his house that Zayn caught the eye of, his heart skipping a beat every time Zayn slid or stumbled in his excitement to get closer to the next thing. It was so cute, oh god, Zayn motherfucking Malik was in his apartment and he was touching all his things and Harry wasn’t even wearing his pants— 

Oh fuck. Harry looked down, he wasn’t even wearing pants, or at least pants that weren’t shorter than his XXL shirt, and so while Zayn fiddled around with the antique books and random collectibles by the piano, Harry rushed to put on some sweats, groaning quietly again when he saw how awful he looked in the same hallway mirror, making a mental note to get rid of it the second Zayn leaves. 

When he came back out, Zayn was playing the piano. He looked so natural at it, as if he would be a professional pianist if he wasn’t an actor, the way his entire body would shift and move, long legs pressing down on the pedals and fingers elegantly navigating their way through the keys. He only stopped when he saw Harry walk towards him in his peripheral, and immediately looked down at his suddenly clothed legs. “I thought you were wearing shorts.” 

Harry blushed, “Oh, oh I was—“ 

“Got cold?” Zayn finished, and Harry nodded, deciding to just go with it. The former lifted his foot off the pedal, reaching in his back pocket for his phone. “My manager’s coming to pick me up, but he’s in Anaheim and it’s rush hour, so it’ll take a good three hours, he says.” 

“You—you’re welcome to stay here.” Harry squeaked, internally cringing at how his voice decided to crack. 

Zayn stood back up, “I’ll order sushi, make today a cheat day, Harry. I feel like you’re the only actor I’ve ever worked with that I haven’t even sat down and had a proper conversation with.” 

Harry blinked and laughed nervously, “Yeah.” 

“I heard rumors that you were going out with Liam, but when I asked him about it, he said that he’s never even talked to you because you run away the second the camera stops.” 

“Oh, I mean, he’s kind of right, actually.” Harry scratched the back of his head. 

“Don’t you feel a little trapped—I feel a little antsy, like I’m Fiona from Shrek or something, like I'm in a tower right now, or maybe Rapunzel, you know what I mean—why are you wearing a beanie?” It seemed that Zayn’s attention span was that of a goldfish. 

“My hair looked bad,” Harry answered sheepishly, stepping back instinctively when Zayn stepped forward. 

He dropped his arms and his face, “You are scared of me.” 

Harry shook his head as his eyelashes fluttered up and down, “N-no, it’s not that, oh gosh,” He squeaked again when Zayn was suddenly right in front of him, met with his broad chest and expensive cologne. 

Then Zayn was tugging at his beanie, and Harry could do nothing to stop it, fruitlessly reaching for it, but Zayn was much taller than him, which was another overwhelming experience in its own right. “Sheeeesh, babe. Look at you. Like an Ikea rug or something.” 

Harry could feel his face grow hot, going completely red and looking away because he really thought he was about to cry. 

“Benign, tepid.” 

Hm? Harry looked back up at him. 

“You wanna see how I look in the morning when I don’t wash out the gallons of hair gel Maeve puts on my head? Like if a cat  _ ripped up _ an Ikea rug.” Zayn scrolled through his photos and clicked on a selfie of a very hungover looking Zayn at what’s supposed to be an unattractive angle, but the rat’s nest was definitely present in the photo. Harry snorted, loudly, and Zayn smiled a toothy smile. 

“You even snort cute,” Zayn smirked a little, putting his phone away and was now almost touching torsos with Harry. “I put the order in for a delivery, you like Sugarfish?” 

Harry nodded, “My favorite sushi place.” 

“Mine too, the first time I went, the owner’s son called me handsome and kissed me in the kitchen.” Zayn went away, now looking through Harry’s fascinating coffee table. “No board games, nothing?” 

“Don’t have a lot of people over.” Harry shrugged, and then realized just how lame he sounded. 

Zayn shrugged back, “That’s chill. What’s your favorite show?” 

Harry pushed his glasses up again, “I really like ‘Shameless.’” 

Zayn was obviously not expecting that answer, head snapping up in surprise. “That’s my favorite show too! I feel like my family was the middle-class version of Shameless, but with all sisters. Basically, a lot more hair in the shower drain.” 

Harry laughed at that, “Same, except I’m also guilty. This mop is almost long enough to donate.” 

Zayn smiled and patted the seat next to him. “I think you’d look cute with short hair.” 

Harry stuttered, “N-Nice to—uh, nice to know.” He stiffly leaned back until his ass touched the cushion, heart pounding loudly in his chest. 

Zayn shook his head again, showing off his perfectly straight and white teeth as he turned on Harry’s remote and began to flip through the various paid subscriptions. 

Zayn smelled so good. Like, this had to be said. Harry was sweating just from how intimidated he was from his scent alone, and his side profile, fuck, his jawline and how long his eyelashes were, even his ears were fucking perfect. 

“Thanks, babe, it’s YSL La Nuit De L’homme.” 

Harry wanted to kill himself, “Did I...did I say that out loud?” 

“Maybe,” Zayn’s voice was so buttery that Harry could probably just get hard like this, sitting less than a foot away from each other, being able to smell him and gaze upon his godly pink lips that he kept on biting. “Have you ever watched Marvelous Mrs. Maisel?” Zayn looked over at him and made direct eye contact, and steam practically exploded out of Harry’s ears. “That might be my second favorite show. Love Midge, I feel like I  _ am _ her sometimes, so I just get her, ya know? Get cheated on, get cheated, get fucked, get hammered. Ya feel?” 

Harry really didn’t, but he was in no position to break Zayn’s monologue. “Ya, I feel.”  _ God, I sound stupid _ . “Should you apologize to your girlfriend?” 

Zayn shrugged, “She’s not my girlfriend. She only agreed to pose as if she is only because she wants to fuck Alex. I don’t blame her, he’s a snack. She’s just mad that she’s looking like a fool in the press.” 

Harry nodded as if he understood. “Why—why did you need someone to pose as your girlfriend, if you don’t mind me asking?” 

Zayn finally figured out how to turn on the first episode before looking over to Harry, “I guess coming out was a bad idea. You’re out, but everyone’s nice to you, 'cause you’re small and cute and you don’t have shady history, you know? You can be with whoever you want to be with, but instead, you stay up in your tower in an apartment six times too big, with an $80,000 piano you don’t play, and basically starving yourself by eating those stupid brown rice and lean fish bullshit. I don’t really get it. Do you have popcorn?” Zayn jumped up as Harry was left to ponder what he just said. 

“Uh, third cabinet over the microwave,” Harry blinked, feeling like he’s gotten the wind knocked out of him. “You came out?” 

“Yeah, I did. Biggest mistake of my life, nearly went homeless.”

Harry’s heart kinda broke, if he wanted to be honest. 

“But you know, build enough scandals and people forget who you really are, right?” Zayn pressed buttons on the microwave, spinning back around. “Truth is, I haven’t actually dated anyone in three years.” 

Harry choked on air, “ _ What? _ ” 

Zayn pointed to his own face, which admittedly looked a little swollen from when Harry slammed the door in his face earlier, “The face makes money, the person makes the face unsellable."

Harry shook his head, “I don’t really agree with that, I should think personality would be more important, no?” 

Zayn smiled again and ruffled his hair, the physical contact making Harry a tomato. “You’re a gem, Harry Styles. Most people run away when I show them this side of me, but even though you look like you want to, here we are, bonding over music and favorite shows and wall sconces. I’m gonna keep it a secret, though.”  Zayn’s phone buzzed just as the popcorn finished, “Oh fuck, Alex’s here. That was quick, must've broken some traffic laws." Zayn sighed, putting his phone away, "He’s gonna freak when he sees me.” 

Harry winced, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s really okay, babe, just means I have a day off tomorrow,” Zayn flashed a smile at him and put his jacket back on. 

“Z-Zayn?” Harry asked so quietly he was sure that he wouldn’t have been able to hear, but he did, turning around before opening the door. “What are you keeping a secret?” 

“We can't be seen together, you know? But you can be seen with Liam or Niall or some other good lookin’ chum, especially if they find out just how cute you are on the inside too. So I’m gonna keep you a secret, because it’s fun and selfish, and I like you.” Zayn waited until Harry processed that last bit, waited until Harry’s face contorted to that of pure shock. “Remember when we did ‘Cheyenne’ together? Couple of years ago?” Zayn smiled one last time, Harry still couldn’t get used to it. “We were real drunk, so maybe you don’t, but anyways, I got so excited when I heard I made to do this movie with you, but then you couldn’t even shake my hand or look me in the eye unless we were behind the camera, so I figured that you couldn't remember me.” 

_ What the hell is he talking about?  _

“I was eventually gonna try and talk to you, like maybe after filming the rest of the movie, but I guess fate has its ways, huh?” Zayn waved bye like a cartoon character, “Gee, I’m so happy that you’re pretty cool, I totally thought our sex scene next week was going to be awkward as hell.” The heavy front door slowly shutting itself and the last thing Harry heard before passing out was the sound of the automated locking clicking shut. 

  
  



	2. thank you, scotland

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **kiss me in the shower**  
**for a couple hours.**  
**though we're only sixteen,**  
**sit down beside me.**  
**don't call me daddy,**  
**'cause that's just fucking weird.**  
-corduroy dreams, rex orange county.

ELI suddenly stands up and grabs EBELE’S hand and whisks him upwards into a tight hug, looking out the window to the building across the street for any suspicious movement or glint from the window. And there was his friend, DONAL, the Irish sharpshooter who questioningly signaled at him. In the background, a large man pushes the cafe door roughly, and it is the other specialist ADNEY, looking around the cafe without any subtlety. He has not spotted ELI and EBELE yet whilst they are tucked in the corner. 

EBELE (quietly, muffled words in ELI’s chest) 

Eli? What’re you doing? 

ELI pulls EBELE into the cafe kitchen, silently holding a finger to his lips as he held onto his body. 

EBELE 

Eli? What’s going on? 

ELI 

There are people trying to kill you. 

EBELE 

What? 

ELI 

And I’m one of them. 

EBELE makes a face at him, flailing his arms around. 

EBELE 

What the fuck? 

ELI 

I’m not a private investigator, I was hired to take you out. 

EBELE looks faint, leaning against a shelf of canned condensed milk. 

EBELE 

This has to be some kind of joke, I just can’t believe you, Eli. This is too far, even for you, did you just—see me and then decide to say all those things as some kind of a prank? You could’ve just called or something, asshole. 

ELI 

Eb, I’m telling the truth. 

EBELE heads over to the service entrance, looking back at ELI. 

EBELE 

Only my mom gets to call me Eb, and she’s dead. 

ELI is shocked, although he produces no sound, the way his expression changes is enough to tell that he had no idea such a thing happened. 

EBELE 

And yeah, Annie's a mom now, but she’s also a widow after her husband got into a hit-and-run. Where the fuck were you, Eli? I just—I can’t. I guess you haven’t changed. 

EBELE leaves the restaurant, and before ELI could call out to him, there are screams heard from the customers in the cafe, and ADNEY slams open the kitchen door with a gun in his hand, locates ELI and frowns dangerously. 

ADNEY (through gritted teeth)

Get back in the car, man. 

ELI 

I can’t do that. If it were your friend, you wouldn’t be able to do it, Ad, and you know it. 

ADNEY (sighing) 

My hands are tied here, Eli. Our job isn’t to decide, it’s to go in and get the job done, and up until today, you were always the one that would preach that the most. Get in the car. 

ELI is frozen, stares blankly at ADNEY before shaking his head. ADNEY huffs angrily and starts heading towards the service exit, but ELI stops him. 

ELI 

He’s a kindergarten teacher. 

ADNEY ignores him and tries to move forward. 

ELI 

And he…we’ve known each other since we were kids, Ad. 

ELI has distracted ADNEY long enough to hit him in the back of the head with a frying pan, ADNEY crumbles to the floor. ELI steps over him and follows the direction that EBELE left in, taking ADNEY’s gun and putting it alongside his own. 

ELI (desperately, but it seems more romantic than it does action-packed)

Eb! EB! 

EBELE is seen walking down the street, hands in his pockets and back turned to ELI. ELI begins to run when he realizes that DONAL is at the conjoining crosswalk. 

ELI sprints, grabbing EBELE and shoving him into an alleyway forcefully. 

ELI 

I’m sorry, Eb. I’m so, so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean to leave the way I did, I swear, I know I did you guys wrong. 

EBELE (muttering)

Private Investigator my ass. You always would go on and on about playing at Carnegie Hall. 

ELI 

I—we don’t have time for this. 

ELI sheaths EBELE in his own jacket and grabs his hand to run through the alleyway to the next three streets over. 

“Alright alright, let’s stop there. Cut!” 

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiing! 

“Get Sunshine his inhaler, Sandra, come with me.” Billy got out of his director’s chair as the multiple cameramen came back running from their angles, relatively large men holding cameras larger than themselves. 

“Good job, you got it on the first take, per usual.” Louis welcomed Harry into his arms where he was coming down the street, “Hungry?” 

“Not really,” Harry shook his head, looking a little pale. “Can I get my inhaler?” 

Louis nodded, reaching into his back pocket for it and handed it to him, both sat down on the curb. “When you said you broke Zayn motherfucking Malik, I thought that you actually broke Zayn motherfucking Malik.” 

“His makeup took longer today because of me,” Harry said guiltily, head bowed low. “Gosh, I don’t even remember most of what happened yesterday.” 

“Yeah, found you passed out on your couch when I got there, as well as two boxes of Sugarfish to-go boxes? Did y’all have a date or something?” 

Harry shook his head furiously, “No, it was just a friendly visit.” 

Louis didn’t seem very convinced, but entertained him nevertheless, “Alright.” He decided against playing oblivious when Harry nervously walked away, tripping over and just barely catching himself. “Haz,” 

Harry mouthed a sincere ‘fuck’ before turning around, and Louis had a bad expression on his face,  _ the _ bad expression that he always gave Harry when things weren’t going according to plan. “I believe you, but I just wanna remind you that your little crush—it should stay that way. I don’t want to have to talk to the Boss if you end up in one of Malik’s PR stunts, and I don’t want to have to rebuild your reputation all up again. You’ve come this far—“ 

“I know.” Harry cut him off, and that alone was a shock, Louis started looking like the vein in his neck was on the verge of bursting. 

“Did you just interrupt me?” 

Harry nervously looked side to side, fidgeting in his place, “I’m sorry, dunno what came over me. I guess I just heard it a lot, you know?” 

Louis’ sighed, his face relaxing as he rubbed at his temples with his index finger and thumb, “It’s okay, Haz, I get it. Sorry, didn’t mean to lecture you again. Just be careful, yeah?” He walked over and ruffled Harry’s hair, smiling fondly when Harry looked up at him and nodded. 

“I’ll be careful, I promise. I’m cute, Lou, not dumb.” 

Louis laughed, letting go of him, “Imma have to quote you on that.” 

“Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Harry rolled his eyes and ran back to Hair and Makeup. 

* * *

“Hey, Lou?” 

“Yeah, babe?” 

Harry was biting the inside of his cheek as he looked out the window, sighing every once in a while as his eyelids fluttered and his heart danced around on his lungs. “Since when was there a sex scene?” 

“Since…the beginning? Didn’t we have this talk already?” Louis smirked, “Or was it when it was 4 AM and you were passed out in the back without a seatbelt?” 

Harry turned his head, face pale. He blinked once, then twice, very slowly. You see, this was  _ his _ bad expression whenever he didn’t have any words to describe how he was feeling. Louis wasn’t even looking at him, but he knew that Harry was doing that thing again with his eyes and the pout and furrowed eyebrows— 

“Okay, listen. Yeah, maybe I should’ve talked to you about it when you were a bit more coherent, but I really, really didn’t want you to say no to this one just because of the one bed scene,” Louis admitted, making a smooth left towards Harry’s building. “This opportunity is amazing, Haz, you’ve no idea. Better yet, you’ve got the talent for it, and I swear to God if you trust me—“ 

“We’ll make it through and then some.” Harry finished, and then looked away, “I’m not mad at you...I just didn’t know that I’d end up having to have fake sex with someone that I’ve had a crush on for years when I’m a virgin.” Harry deadpanned the last bit. “What’re we gonna do about that, hm?” 

Louis shrugged, “Watch some amateur porn, practice the faces,” He cackled as Harry rushed out of the car, slamming the door with a heavy thud and began to stomp towards the building. The window rolled down, and Louis called out, “Just watch. You’ll be thanking me when you win an Emmy.” 

Harry didn’t look back, but flipped him off, nodding curtly to Benji as he pushed open the door. “Thanks, Benji.” 

“All the time—anytime—no problem, Harry.” Benji stammered, ears going red and body stiff in an awkward position. Harry awkwardly smiled and nodded at him, walked into the lobby and pressed on the elevator button. 

For a split second, he wondered if Zayn presses on the same button every time he had to sneak up to his lady friend’s apartment, if he also taps his foot to the lame elevator music.  _ But how dumb is that _ , he realized, plugging his ears as the high speed elevator shot up like a rocket, waiting a full ten seconds before it smoothly stopped and dinged. 

Harry always thought it peculiar that the original architects had designed it so that there would be one singular apartment on the top floor, because having only a single door in a large hallway was an unsettling sight. But lots of things in Harry’s life were unsettling, so perhaps he matched perfectly with his surroundings. 

When he opened the door, the smell of Spaghetti Bolognese and the sound of a feathery tune from the (what Harry did not realize was an $80,000) piano. “Mom?” 

“Hi, baby!” His mom’s head poked out from behind the tall door, smiling big at him like she always does. “How was work?” 

Harry shrugged, setting down his keys and phone, “Pretty good, nothing went horribly wrong.” 

“There’s meat sauce on the stove, and I made you a couple of freezer casseroles. They better be gone by the time I come ‘round again,” Anne scolded, “You lost another 2.8 pounds.” 

“Close, it was 2.4 pounds,” Harry joked, opening the large pot and startling himself when the steam fogged up his glasses. “Louis’ gonna kill me if I eat all this,” 

“And Anne is going to kill Louis if he tries to stop you,” she referred to herself in the third person before becoming concentrated again, sight-reading like the musical master she was. “So sit down and eat, tell me about this movie, hm?” 

“It’s about an assassin,” Harry looked up, trying to figure out a way to properly describe what it was all about, “I’m the victim.” 

“Splendid,” Anne deadpanned, finishing off the piece with a graceful flourish. “I heard your co-star was that boy that guest starred on ‘Cheyenne’ a couple years ago, heard a lot of things about him, actually.” 

Harry sighed, already knowing he was about to be drilled the same lecture, “Such things like…?” 

Anne stood up, revealing her calf length 50’s inspired shirt dress, her hair perfectly rolled and combed, feet garnished with a pair of royal blue Louboutins, “That he’s a man whore.” 

Harry choked on his food.

“Hm?” 

Anne laughed, walking into the kitchen in a perfect supermodel strut, heels clacking against the marble floors, “So I just wanted to come down and say that you better not catch an STD.” 

Harry decided he couldn’t eat anymore, “Those aren’t very nice things to say, Mom. He’s actually really nice.” 

“He better not be coming over here, or so help me God I will throw  _ somebody _ out these windows.” Anne raised a perfectly penciled in eyebrow at him as she prepared his dessert. “I made peach cobbler, and one for Benji, too. He’s a good boy.” 

“You’re just saying that because he’s innocent and God-fearing,” Harry set his plate down and fell back onto his couch. “Trust me, I have no intentions of getting into a relationship with anyone, so don’t you worry.” 

Anne smiled, walking over and setting a bowl of ice cream on his stomach. “You better make sure I don’t.” She peered over him upside down and kissed his forehead, then her face left the ceiling. 

She whistled a goodbye at him, putting on her long coat and brandishing her Kate Spade purse like a weapon. When Harry heard the door click and beep close, he grabbed the cold bowl off of his stomach and onto the coffee table, sitting up and sighing. It seemed as though there was truly nothing in his apartment, not even a single speck of dust or a cockroach to keep him company. His fish didn’t really count, they just swam back and forth while staring at him with their judging eyes. 

He went up to clean his food off and dishware, trying to figure out just where the hell he was supposed to keep all this meat sauce when a knocking gave license for sound, and oddly enough, in a familiar pattern. 

Nah, it couldn’t be. 

Harry turned off the sink and wiped his hands, walking to the front door as an attempt to silence the incessant knocking. He turned on the security system to look at the camera, all the air being knocked out of his lungs when there was Zayn, clearly standing outside Harry’s door whilst fidgeting around like he couldn’t help it. 

Harry unlocked and opened the door, feeling a little bit better about the state of his appearance tonight, “Hi, Zayn.” 

Zayn looked ravishing, limited edition Doc Martens, very black skinny jeans, and a hype brand sweater that Harry just couldn’t quite remember the name of. His nose looked infinitely times better than it did yesterday, that was for sure. Harry guessed that that was why he didn’t take the day from work like he said he would. 

“Hi cutie,” Zayn replied, eyes sparkling almost as much as his teeth. “Brought a gift.” 

“A gift?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn held up a copy of the movie script, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. “Thought we could uh, maybe discuss some things in private instead of in front of everyone on set.” 

“Yeah, yeah of course,” Harry gulped, ushering him in and closing the door so hesitantly one might’ve thought he was locking himself in a cage. “Like, the...the bed scene?” 

Zayn shrugged, “I kind of meant the one where there’s a lot of action going on, knew that you haven’t worked with a stunt double before, but sure! We can talk about that scene.” He sat down on Harry’s couch in the same manner he did yesterday, looking comfortable and already in tune with his surroundings. 

“I uh, are you hungry? My mom made a ton of food,” Harry asked, and Zayn smiled and shook his head. “Oh, okay.” 

“Yeah, Alex has me eating dinner earlier nowadays, something about retaining water when eating salt past 5 PM,” Zayn explained as he flipped through the script. “Ah, here it is. When Eli and Edele have their night of passion in a hotel whilst on the run from all the people chasing them.” Zayn began to skim through it as Harry squirmed, feeling hot and bothered just at the thought of it. “You push me up against a wall, ha. The thought of you pushing me up against a wall, it’s so adorable I could laugh!” Zayn shakes his head while laughing, and Harry began to feel a little offended. “Whoever drafted this should know that set walls aren’t sturdy, we’d probably rip a human sized hole through it.” 

_ Oh _ . Harry felt stupid for automatically assuming that Zayn was making fun of him. “Yeah, I guess that would be pretty funny.” 

“But it all seems Type A to me,” Zayn flipped the script back to the cover page, looking at Harry with confident eye contact. “Normal bed scene stuff.” 

It was now Harry’s turn to sheepishly rub the back of his head, “About that…” 

“Is that a real? The Banksy?” Zayn commented, pointing at the art piece on the wall, when Harry nodded, Zayn looked like he was in love. “Gosh, that’s awesome.” 

“I like his confidence,” Harry said shyly, “He’s ballsy.” 

“He really is, huh?” Zayn turned back around. “So what about the scene?” 

“Oh. Yeah, it’s just that—“ 

“Someone used the piano today!” Zayn changed the subject and jumped up again, making a beeline for the piano. “I can tell, the pedals aren’t as stiff.” He made a show of it by pressing on them with his foot, running a hand down each and every key. 

“My mom was over, she plays every time,” Harry reminded him, and while he tried to enjoy the entertaining aspects of Zayn’s personality, it still felt as though that script was burning a hole through his coffee table. “The truth is,” He sputtered, “I’m a virgin.” Zayn stopped in his actions, slowly turning his head to look at Harry. Before even saying anything, he assessed the other boy with his eyes, eyes going up and down, as if scanning him. 

“You’re totally lying,” Zayn laughed, shaking his head. “How can you be? You’re out and you’re fucking adorable.” 

“I’m not lying,” Harry felt his face grow hot as he adamantly stared Zayn down. “I booked ‘Cheyenne’ when I was twelve and worked on it for eight seasons. I didn’t even have friends apart from my co-stars.” Zayn hummed at this, taking off his jacket and placing it down on the same place he did yesterday. 

“So, you have no idea how you’re supposed to fake bed me?” Zayn chuckled, trying to contain himself from cooing at how pink Harry’s cheeks had become. 

“Ye-yeah,” Harry whispered, looking down when Zayn walked back over to him, getting very close and up in his face. “Z-Zayn?” 

Zayn was still trying to read him, “You’re a good actor, Harry. You’re good at emulating things you’re terrified to do in real life. For instance, holding eye contact with me.” He tilted Harry’s chin up, the latter gasping softly when he was confronted with two windows of amber and soul. “So let’s plan it out, yeah? Every single movement we’re going to do, so that it’s not weird.” 

“I don’t really know how I’d…practice it.” Harry clenched his eyes shut when Zayn sat down in front of him, proving his point. 

“Can I touch you?” Zayn pointed to Harry’s arm, and when he nodded, he gently slid a hand under Harry’s thin wrist, using it to gently position him. “So you push me up against the wall.” 

“Mhm.” Harry’s breathing had gone stiff. 

“Are you okay?” Zayn asked, and Harry nodded unconvincingly. “Nah, you’re not. Maybe we shouldn’t do—“ 

“I want to,” He blurted out, internally cringing at how desperate he sounded. “I...I’m okay if you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay,” Zayn let go of him and motioned to himself. “But I’m only okay if you’re okay.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“Okay.” Zayn smiled, relaxing and going back to hold Harry’s wrist, “Well, after you push me against the wall, I’m supposed to push you onto the bed.” He lightly sent Harry backwards until his hair met the couch cushion. 

“I think I could’ve done that better.” 

“Yeah, you looked like a book slamming open.” 

Harry got up and fell back again, being cognizant of how he did so, exhaling when his back met the cushion once more. “Better.” 

Zayn smiled and nodded, “Let’s say the camera is there,” He pointed to his right; Harry’s left. “Can you stretch that way like you’re just waking up in the morning?” 

Harry did so, pushing his torso forwards while moving his shoulders sensually, “Jesus, that was perfect.” That’s all Zayn had to say? 

“Can you do it again with your eyes closed?” Zayn asked, hovering over Harry as he looked back at the script again. When Harry did so, right in the middle of it, he felt a sharp pinch to his inner thigh. 

“Ah,” He gasped, eyes flying open. “Wha-what was that?” 

“Make that exact noise day of.” Zayn told him, looking impressed. Harry blinked at him in confusion, but nodded nevertheless. “Now, I’m gonna lift this leg, yeah?” He hooked a hand behind Harry’s right thigh, pressing it up and essentially spreading his legs. Harry squirmed a bit, trying not to focus on how Zayn’s warm and big hand was softly gripping his thigh, because if he got hard now he’d kill himself before ever getting close to filming a bed scene. “I’m gonna kiss up your neck, that okay?” 

_ Fuck, more than okay. It’s okay to do more, actually. Fuck, it’s okay for me, fuck me—  _

Harry’s train of thought was cut off when he felt Zayn’s lips at the bottom of his neck, and nearly wailed when they felt exactly how Harry had always dreamt they might feel like. 

“Fuck, you’re honestly so beautiful,” Zayn gasped against his skin, and Harry’s heart was now running a million-miles-a-minute-down-the-Interstate-95-in-a-‘69-convertible-with-a-pretty-girl-on-his-lap fast, he must’ve looked like a deer in headlights by the way Zayn casually pecked him on the lips before sitting up onto his knees. “Hmm, forgot the next line.” 

_ Oh, Jesus fucking Christ. He was just reading from the script, you doorknob.  _

“Zayn? Can I ask you a question?” 

“‘Course, babe.” There he was with the fucking ‘babe’ again as if it totally wasn’t the rudest, sexiest thing ever. 

“If you’re trying to not be out, how come you’re doing a movie about a gay couple?” Harry asked, still on his back, his right leg still hooked onto Zayn’s hand. 

Zayn smiled at him, “Taron Egerton and Richard Madden were gay in a movie, does that make them gay in real life? To them, maybe they’re thinking ‘I’m just so good of an actor that I make falling in love with another guy convincing.’” 

They were silent for a moment before Harry reached over for the script and pointed. “Your line, ‘I didn’t know that I needed you this much until I left.’ Hm, that’s kind of a shit line.” 

“Yeah, it is.” Zayn let go of Harry’s leg, letting it fall on the other side of himself, and now Harry was just casually laying underneath Zayn with his legs spread around his body. Cool! 

“Maybe you can say ‘I don’t want to die.’” Zayn suggested, “Then I’ll say ‘You won’t’ or something.” 

Harry shrugged, slowly becoming more and more aware of the fact that he was literally underneath Zayn motherfucking Malik, feigning moans and pantomiming a body when under sexual stress, so wasn’t this atmosphere a little too procedural and artificial? “It’ll work for now.” 

“Hey, Harry? Can I ask  _ you _ a question?” Zayn said while setting the script down again, falling forwards until both hands were pressing down next to Harry’s head. 

“Y-yeah,” 

“Have you ever fallen in love? Like, genuinely, just...loved someone for no reason?” Zayn lifted Harry’s hips so that now he was straddling him, his head getting lower and lower. 

“Um,” Harry was pressing his head back so much he was sure to have at least three chins. “For...for no reason?” 

“Yeah, no reason at all.” Zayn pressed their foreheads together, and now Harry knew for sure that  _ this _ wasn’t in the script. 

Harry tried really hard to steady his breathing without looking frightened and constipated, “Honestly? I don’t think I have. I haven’t been in a lot of steamy romances, if it isn’t obvious already. A lot of the time I end up just making lists of the people I like; all the things I like about them. Don’t think I’ve ever looked at someone and fell hard just like that.” Harry stuttered towards the end when Zayn moved a hand to his waist. 

“I think I might be stupid and vain, then, because I have. If I’m being honest, I hate falling in love.” Zayn closed his eyes before releasing Harry’s forehead from his own, sitting back up and this time, on his butt. 

Harry scrambled to do the same, not wanting to look wrecked from a read-through. “Why hate falling in love?” 

Zayn smiled small at him, “For that, I have lots of reasons.” 

Harry smiled back, pleased with how witty his crush was and pleased with how warm his house felt that now there was another body sharing its space. “Like what?” 

“I’m in a shit ton of debt,” Zayn admitted truthfully and promptly, which Harry truly didn’t think he would. “I have terrible trust issues, I’m in the closet again, and I’ve been stuck being in love with the same person for the longest time, and at this rate, I don’t think that’s ever going to change.” 

A part of Harry’s heart ripped off, but he still managed to sound cordial and put together, “You should tell them that you love them, Zayn. I know—I know I would. Regardless of what they say, maybe it’d pull a little weight off that hate.” 

Zayn scoffed so subtly Harry almost didn’t catch it, “Harry? You know, I’ve only hung out with you twice, but it seems that I have now revealed a fuckton more about my life to you than I have to people I’ve known for years. How does that make you feel?” Zayn asked like they were on Dr. Phil, and Harry was supposed to be the estranged patient…? 

Harry giggled, to which Zayn couldn’t help but smile, watching him cover his mouth and look away for a slight moment. “Do you want me to even out the playing field?” 

Zayn’s body language told him ‘sure.’ 

“Well, everyone in my family is perfect. In every way possible, and it’s kind of suffocating being the rotten apple in the fruit stand. Mom used to be a supermodel—now a pin-up icon, Dad writes screenplays, my sister Gemma is doing a Broadway run right now.” Harry explained, Zayn whistling in response. 

“I guess I just kind of ended up here because I was supposed to, you know? But sometimes it feels like I’m living someone else’s life, and I think about how I’m not really aware of anything that’s going on.” Harry was clenching his jaw and Zayn noticed, so he reached over and manually dropped Harry’s chin down. “You were right, you know? Sometimes I do feel like I’m Rapunzel.” 

Zayn didn’t have anything to say to that, so they stared at each other for a few more seconds, positioned differently on the couch but still determined to study the other’s face. As the sunset began to permeate the sky into layers of orange, pink, and red, it was almost as if the city was finally just starting to wake up, colorful lights illuminating a dark denim sky. Zayn was the first one to finally move, “You got any booze?” 

Harry loosened up his neck and stretched his mouth around as his jaw was beginning to get sore, “Cabinet next to the fridge.” 

Zayn walked over, opening it and his eyes widened, “Sheesh, you keep this stocked, don’t you, babe?” He pulled out a bottle and read the label, “Single Malt Scotch from the Scottish Highlands. My favorite.” 

Harry perked up from his dazed trance, “Really? It’s my favorite too.” 

Zayn laughed under his breath, “Had a feeling it would be.” He walked to where Harry directed him towards the whiskey glasses, pulling them out carefully and pouring some for the both of them as if he was in his own house. 

“You have really great intuition, Zayn.” Harry laughed, making grabby hands at the glass when Zayn came back around to the couch. 

Zayn mumbled under his breath, “Or just a really great memory.” 

“Pardon?” 

“Oh, I said that I just saw that this bottle was only half full while the others weren’t even open. Put two and two together.” Zayn saved himself, sipping at his whiskey as Harry turned on the television. 

“We never got to watch Mrs. Maisel, did we?” Harry flipped through the fancy remote with ease. “I have very high expectations, considering you said you felt like you and the main character were basically the same person.” 

Zayn snorted and got closer to Harry on the couch, “I didn’t say that, but sure.” 

Harry leaned back and sniffed the air, “I meant to say this earlier, but you smell different. Good, don’t get me wrong, but different.” 

Zayn smiled at him, he’s been doing that a lot lately, “You noticed.” 

* * *

They had first started on the couch, far away from each other, both feet on the floor and eyes fixed on the screen, they laugh on cue, sometimes Zayn would catch the extra giggle Harry would emit every so often. As they got to the second episode, Harry lifted his legs up onto the couch, pulling the throw blanket from the side of the couch to cover him and Zayn’s legs. 

Zayn scooched closer so that he could be covered better, and then they kept on watching. 

After a while, Zayn was beginning to get so sleepy, he didn’t get a chance to nap during the day as he usually does, so he was kind of tilting to one side. 

By the time the fifth episode was on its count down to play, Harry turned to Zayn, startling him awake. “Oh gosh, sorry, were you falling asleep?” 

“Nah,” Zayn lied, pushing his hair back. “What’s up?” 

Harry looked flushed, shiny, and nervous, curly hair waving down and framing his small face so perfectly any guy who could’ve seen him right now would cry. “I have...another question.” 

“Shoot,” Zayn motioned with one hand. “I am an open book.” 

Harry nodded, blinking slightly before scooching another inch closer, and suddenly, their legs were touching. “Zayn, why did you kiss me?” 

Zayn nearly did a double-take, but managed to keep it together, “Like...just now?” 

Harry nodded, “Just now when you kissed me. That wasn’t in the script.” 

“Oh.” Zayn rubbed at the back of his head, “Sorry, I guess I got a little too in the moment.” 

“Zayn? Can I ask another question?” 

“‘Course.” 

“Would you kiss me again?” 

Harry was definitely feeling a lot bolder now that both of them were a little tipsy, and Zayn could tell just by how unstable and dizzy he looked. He was getting tipsy himself, and for some reason, all of a sudden the image of Harry under him flashed in his mind, hitting him like a truck and making him fall a bit forwards in his drunken haze. 

“Would I?” 

Harry nodded, yes, that was the question. But Zayn begged to differ, “...is not the question. The question is,  _ can _ I?” 

It took Harry a few moments to register the play on words, blinking into dead space before scanning through the very last bit, but once he did, he gasped a little shriek, adorably covering his mouth and his pretty eyes went wide. 

Zayn leaned closer, vision a little blurry, but he could just about make out Harry’s midsection and the curvatures of his face, one hand on the former and the other on the latter. Harry kept on blinking as an attempt to clear his own vision, his own hands suddenly being placed on Zayn’s chest. “You...you can, if you’re okay with that.” 

“But only if yeeern oh hey wid dat,” Zayn slurred, and Harry giggled because if Zayn sounded that drunk he could only imagine how he must sound. “Can I kiss you?” 

Harry fingers and his toes experienced some kind of electric shock, so he wiggled them and let himself fall more in Zayn’s hold. He nodded, and it seemed like Zayn nodded back at him for some reason. 

“Welllll, here I come, den.” 

This felt real, the script was nowhere to be found, and if the way Zayn’s heart was beating against Harry’s hand told him anything, he was genuinely leaning towards Harry in pursuit, towards  _ Harry _ , of all people in this beautiful, beautiful world. 

Before he could think another barely coherent thought, their lips met, they were so close that the heat from Zayn’s face was practically radiating onto Harry’s, he could almost feel the wind that Zayn’s eyelashes created when he fluttered his eyes, and when they pulled away without having moved, it felt so wrong that Harry could sense it from the center of the Earth. 

“Harry? I think we had too much whiskey,” Zayn murmured, hand still near Harry’s ear grasping his hair. “Ha, now that I think about it, maybe our scene will end up better if we had some whiskey before shooting.” 

Harry wanted to scream, “Mhm.” 

“You smell nice,” Zayn was literally falling asleep with Harry in his chest, still holding his middle like he was some sort of a giant teddy bear and while he was on his way to a dream where he was visiting Willy Wonka’s Chocolate Factory. “Is it bad that I think I like you?” 

“Probably,” Harry admitted, but that’s as far as he could go because no matter how drunk Zayn was he still didn’t have the courage to say those words back. “But you should sleep here tonight.” 

“Alex is s’posed to pick me up in the morning.” 

“Fuck,” Harry whispered, trying to think while Zayn was pulling him down onto the couch, and of course, he couldn’t think about anything while he was lying atop his broad chest as if it were natural. 

“I can tell him I went to Isabella’s,” 

Isabella must be the name of his official girlfriend. 

“Man, you’re really light. That’s kinda worrying,” Even in his sleep, Zayn’s observance was astonishing and heart-fluttering without even trying. “Don’t eat that meal prep crap anymore, a person’s supposed to have more than 300 grams of chicken breast.” 

Harry laughed quietly, succumbing to the power of the Scottish highlands, biting his lip when Zayn moved his hand from his waist up to his back almost protectively. 

God, this boy was going to kill him not only on the big screen but in real life too. 

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guys, you have no idea just how happy i was when i got a stream of emails of comment after comment and kudos after kudos, i had no idea that i was ever going to surpass a 100 hits this quickly. i'm very excited for this one, it's so damn cute, and so are all y'all.   
-j


	3. girl, lemme get those digits

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> stupid boys getting drunk again 
> 
> **see, there's showering at gym class.**  
**bobby maler, he's the best. looks so nasty in those khakis.**  
**god, my whole life's, like, some test.**  
-duncan sheik, the bitch of living

When Harry woke up the next morning, he was in his bed. If that wasn’t odd enough, he had no idea why when he opened his eyes there were a bunch of couch cushions and bed pillows stacked on top of each other, but upon sitting up and turning it seemed that someone had created a large box of stacked cushions all around him in a square. He pondered for a moment on what he should do, then calmly kicked one of the walls down and escaped his pillow fortress. 

There was a note lying on the dresser, and Harry’s body immediately pulled him to it, picking it up and having to push away his curls from his face in order to read what it said. 

_ See you on set.  _

_ Z  _

It was too early to be getting heart palpitations like this, but Harry slammed the note against his chest and breathed heavily, trying to figure out whether or not last night had actually happened. He turned back around to look at the mess Zayn made, sighing and walking through the hallway to the living room, where indeed Zayn had stripped the couch of its cushions as well as taking most of the throw pillows. 

But it was cute though, not gonna lie. 

He woke up a little later than usual, which made sense, considering the extenuating circumstances he was under. He checked the clock up on the wall, gauging that he had about fifteen minutes to shower and look not-hungover before Louis came to pick him up for shooting. 

He groaned at the thought of his housekeeper being frustrated with him so he shot a quick heads up text before running back into his room and turning on the shower faucet. 

He ran back out, scrambling to put most of the food items away and clear a path enough for him to get through safely without the imminent danger of tripping over a pillow. Why Zayn decided to enclose him in a pillow fortress was beyond him, but after thinking about it, most if not everything pertaining to Zayn was beyond him. 

After showering and getting into a pair of comfy clothes that were easy to get in and out of, he attempted to put the cushions back onto the couch and clear away the glasses and the whiskey before anyone got any ideas about the company he was keeping last night. He even washed and dried the glasses so that there would be no suspicion garnered. 

When Louis finally called, the unique ringtone of “Stayin’ Alive” by Bee Gees vibrating and echoing through the whole apartment, Harry quickly grabbed his things and ran out the door. 

“Hi,” He was so clearly out of breath, so clearly shaken up and frazzled. “I woke up late.” 

Louis began to drive, but looked at him through the rearview mirror, “You never wake up late. What’s wrong?” 

Harry shrugged, trying to look natural, “Nothing, just decided to sleep in a little more, still sore from working out last night so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a rest day.” 

“You worked out last night?” Louis looked at him again when they safely arrived to the freeway. “That’s a first.” 

“Hey,” Harry drawled, tying his shoelaces and trying not to make eye contact. “I work out when I want to work out.” 

“Yeah yeah.” 

Harry decided he was “sleepy,” leaning back into his seat and tilting his head to the side with his eyes closed, and although it was merely a strategy to not break under Louis’ powers to manipulate the ineffable, he actually did fall asleep. 

_ Edinburgh is great in the Spring come Summer, it’s nice and warm and the countryside is just beautiful.  _

_ Wow, I’m actually fucking losing my shit.  _

He was woken up when the car stopped and the door opened loudly, making his eyelids flutter and he immediately rubbed at his eyes. 

“Hello love, we’re filming kind of a tedious scene today, so I’ll need to have you in the chair a bit longer,” Marcy smiled at him and so did Louis, who took him in an embrace when he slipped out of the car drunkenly. “It’s a direct scene with Liam Payne, gosh, I know Bella’s workin’ on him, but sometimes I wish I could  _ work _ on him, you know what I’m saying?” Marcy joked as she began to fluff at Harry’s curls. “Harry, what did we talk about keeping this mop healthier, huh? Have you been putting in the leave-in conditioner I gave you?” 

“No,” Harry admitted, because he was a firm believer in the truth...haha. “Sorry, I woke up kinda late today.” 

“It’s okay, baby, we can fix this. After I’m done with you and you finish the first half, come back this way on over and Bella will do the SFX stuff, yeah?” 

Harry shot her his Emmy winning smile, “Yeah, thank you, Marcy.” 

Marcy quite literally cooed and ruffled his hair one more time, squeezing and plumping up some locks and recurling them around her fingers. 

“Hey Haz, I’m going to go talk to Liam’s manager for a bit, I’ll be over there if you need me.” Louis patted his shoulder, walking to the studio’s exit with a handsome and dependable looking man beside him. 

“Alright, think I’m just about done,” Marcy was patting his face with a lot of translucent powder, his skin was so perfect that that was all he needed. “And by the way, if I have to put concealer on you the next time you decide to come to work hungover, I will die.” She looked at him in the mirror. “Be hungover on a day off.” 

Harry went red, nodding quickly and begged her to not say anything to Louis, who already seemed like he was on his case. She just laughed at him and kicked him out of her chair, motioning to the area where the director was speaking in hushed voices to his producers, not unlike a king would to his advisors. 

Liam was sitting on one of the set pieces, going over the script with a concentrated lest concerned look on his face. He was bent over until he saw in his peripheral that Harry was heading his way and leaped up a foot into the air. 

“Hi,” Liam breathed out as Harry stopped in his tracks. “Um,” He walked over to him, a hand extended out. “I’m sorry for being so rude, I didn’t get a chance to properly introduce myself when we shot together. I’m a huge fan,” 

Harry smiled politely, shaking Liam’s hand and shyly trying to avoid his gaze. “It’s really alright, you shouldn’t ever feel guilty for popping off and becoming successful. I’m a big fan of yours too,” He said mostly as a courtesy, because God knows that he never really had time to do much else but sleep, exercise, and look pretty for an audience. 

It was quite peculiar he had even let Zayn watch a show with him, get through four whole episodes and drink three glasses of whiskey. He usually could only watch a 20 minute cartoon before passing out and he stayed far away from any alcohol since that night on the set of ‘Cheyenne.’ 

Speaking of Zayn, just where was he? C’mon, was he not the main character? 

Harry had to let his thoughts be shoved aside when he went over the script with Liam for what seemed like a third time, tried to be mindless and open when the director gave him further instructions. 

Then all of a sudden, he was in his costume (which didn’t look too much different from what he came in), the lights were shining, and the whole studio went silent. 

ADNEY bursts into the room with such force that the door comes clean off the hinges and crashes to the floor. EBELE, hiding between the bed and the wall, whimpers in true fear as ADNEY walks through the threshold. 

ADNEY (genuinely, looking for EBELE but not having quite spotted him yet)

I’m sorry. 

EBELE looks up from where he was hiding his head in between his knees, realizing that ADNEY was just talking to the air and still hadn’t found him, so he quickly goes back into turtling. 

ADNEY (trying to maintain composure) 

I’m really, really sorry. This isn’t how any of us wanted this to go. 

ADNEY turns his body around and around, scanning the room and quelling abruptly when he realized where EBELE was. He stood still for a second, his eyes focusing in on how the small body wedged next to the wall was shaking, and drops his gun. 

ADNEY slowly walks over to the other edge of the room, feeling a little silly at just how exposed EBELE was and he couldn’t find him for a solid two minutes. An overwhelming sense of guilt in the air. 

ADNEY (a final time) 

I’m sorry. 

EBELE looks up in horror when the voice had gotten closer, screaming so loudly it was silent as he tried to back up into the wall. 

ADNEY walks over to him, an intimidating and broad man who now was no longer the handsome mystery, but a cold blooded killer. 

EBELE has tears streaming down his face. 

EBELE 

Why? 

ADNEY falls to his knees directly in front of him. He doesn’t know why. 

EBELE (almost angrily) 

Why? 

ADNEY looks up at him, the eye contact so passionate it nearly feels like the rest of the room isn’t there. 

ADNEY 

This…God, I’m not even supposed to talk to you. 

EBELE 

Where’s Eli? 

ADNEY

Back at our headquarters. 

ADNEY takes the earpiece out of his ear and crushes it with his bare fist, EBELE jumps and sobs harder. 

EBELE (through tears and ‘last word’ adrenaline rush) 

When I was a kid, I was always scared of monsters like you. 

ADNEY goes stiff. 

EBELE 

Monsters who make people disappear, have the ground eat them up like they were nothing; they were nobody. 

EBELE has given up, his head lolling back and hitting the wall on an angle. He is pale and a cold sweat broke out on his face. 

EBELE (bitterly) 

You don’t have nobody. Kill people because you’re nothing. 

EBELE’s voice begins to grow louder and louder. 

EBELE 

All for what? Money? Why? Why? _ WHY?  _

ADNEY suddenly shoots a hand up on EBELE’s neck, beginning to choke him. 

ADNEY (coldly) 

It’s my job. 

EBELE tries to pry his hand off, to no avail, struggling and eyes getting wider and wider by the half-second. 

ADNEY 

I don’t get to be judged by you. We go in, 

ADNEY leans forward, pushing his hand harder. 

ADNEY 

We do what we’re told, 

EBELE eyes are starting to close, face becoming gray. Death is imminent. 

At the very last second, at the cusp of EBELE’s journey to unconsciousness, ADNEY lets go, and EBELE crumbles onto the floor. 

ADNEY (through strained breaths) 

And we die if we don’t deliver. 

EBELE is sputtering, coughing, gasping desperately for air as he feels the indentations ADNEY’s hand left on the sides of his neck. 

ADNEY (shrugs with pain in his eyes) 

I hate you. 

EBELE (barely, extremely strained) 

Why? 

ADNEY 

I just fucking hate you, because you don’t know a single shit about my life...or Eli’s. And now he’s never going to forgive me, and it’s all your fucking fault. He just  _ had  _ to care that much. 

EBELE’s eyes are bloodshot, still terrified that ADNEY will kill him. 

ADNEY 

This’s the end of the line, do you fucking know that? Because you’re right, I am nothing. But I gotta be honest, this feels a lot better than running around trying to keep myself alive by playing God. 

EBELE 

You’re...you’ll die, your organization, Eli told me—you said it’s your job, what are you going to do? 

ADNEY doesn’t answer him, silently gets up and walks around the bed, picking up his gun. 

ADNEY 

You wanna know what it’s like being a monster? What it’s like to choose one life over another? 

EBELE (cautiously, trying to lean up against the wall as he stood up) 

What? 

ADNEY 

I’ve known Eli longer than you ever will, he’s my goddamn brother and my best friend. You don’t get to come in here and derail every part of him that he needed to be whole again. 

EBELE tenses when ADNEY turns the safety off. 

ADNEY (talking more to himself, not even looking at EBELE anymore) 

Only God gets to play God, maybe. 

ADNEY turns around again, making EBELE whimper again, walks over and grabs EBELE by the shirt, dragging him to the door forcefully. 

ADNEY 

Donal’s outside, I can give you a head start. 

EBELE’s eyes widen. 

EBELE 

You’re not gonna…you’re not gonna kill him, are you? 

ADNEY doesn’t respond to him as if that question was the most idiotic thing he’s ever been asked. ADNEY cracks the curtain a miniscule amount to look out into the motel courtyard, notices DONAL’s oblivious glint sign that he was in motion and ready to sharp shoot if necessary. 

ADNEY sighs, he is only a young man, but the scar that stretches from one ear to the other tells a story that perhaps can someday be the reason he is to be forgiven. 

ADNEY (still looking out the window but talking to EBELE)

I hate you, I want you to know that in case you didn’t hear the first time. 

EBELE is seriously confused, but upon his instinct for survival he shakily stands up and tries to get as far away from ADNEY as possible. 

ADNEY (resolve is set) 

54 Haine Street,  _ somewhere  _ in California. 

EBELE 

Huh? 

ADNEY walks out of the motel room, gun still in hand and stands in front of the doorway. 

ADNEY 

Go. 

EBELE doesn’t need to be told twice, hobbling to the door and stopping for a split second when he remembered that there was a sniper prepared to take him out. 

ADNEY waits until DONAL gives another glint sign that he has a clear shot. 

Time slows, the scene stills as ADNEY walks into the further into the courtyard right in the direction of where he knew DONAL was positioned. Another glint sign, but this time, one of confusion. 

ADNEY lifts the gun to his head and fires, his body falls onto its knees again, followed by his torso. 

EBELE screams, covering his mouth and crying again, but through his tears he manages to run out of the room and out of DONAL’s sight, who had run from his place of hiding to ADNEY’s body in shock. EBELE was feeling like the world was spinning upside down and he was falling into the sky. 

EBELE (he finds his voice again) 

HELP!

EBELE runs as fast as he can into the motel lobby, panicking harder when no one was there, running out of the doors into the street. 

EBELE 

HELP! 

“Wait, actually help,” Harry wheezed, slowing down and bending over, his hands gripping his knees as he struggled to catch his breath. “Ah, jesus, I’m so sorry.” 

“Cut! Are you kidding me? That was a total success, you ran just enough so that we can pick right back up where we left off,” The director gleefully went to him, helping Harry himself. “God, that was so good.”

“Really?” Harry wheezed, breathing harshly as multiple people led him to a chair. 

“Is everything okay?” Liam, who wasn’t yet in full SFX headshot dead person makeup, ran over worriedly to Harry. 

“Yeah, it’s just—it’s just asthma. I just need my inhaler and I’ll be okay,” Harry held his chest, feeling so grateful when he saw Louis sprinting towards him. 

“Outta the way, come on, he’s not a circus animal,” Louis pushed through, getting by Harry’s side immediately and handing him his inhaler. “You good?” 

Harry nodded while medicating, chest contracting and expanding dramatically. “I’m good,” he reassured everyone, who all seemed collectively worried and therefore collectively sighed in relief. 

Louis patted his face, checking to see if his forehead was hot, inspecting Harry’s face and even the makeup on his neck to make sure that it wasn’t because he was allergic to anything. 

Harry pawed at him, per usual, but in the corner of his eye, saw Zayn staring at him from the other side of the set, an unreadable expression painted on his whole body. 

They were next going to shoot Zayn and Liam’s fight scene—for before he dies, of course. They had just shot the suicide scene first because the SFX artist had a packed schedule. Harry moved out of the way once he felt better and let Lou fuss all over him. 

Harry locked eyes with Zayn as he watched him cross over to the set, but Zayn didn’t even smile or let out a cool “Good job, babe,” like he usually would. In fact, his eyes were glassy, as if he didn’t recognize Harry at all. 

“You know how I was talking to Liam’s manager, right?” Louis asked, cutting Harry’s train of thought off. “He said some pretty exciting things.” 

“Like what?” Harry tried to sound enthused and genuinely curious but he actually felt like a totaled car. 

“Liam’s a genuine fan of yours, been watching you since the first season of ‘Cheyenne,’ he was the same age and you inspired him to be an actor.” 

Harry nearly choked on his water. “Wait, really? Like he was being serious when he said that?” 

Lou shrugged, “I’m guessing he was. He’s bi, too. Had one girlfriend, one boyfriend. Wouldn’t look bad if you hung out with him, it’d drive the fans mad.” 

Harry’s ears got larger at the sound of that, “Like, in public?” 

“Within reason,” Louis specified. “You can’t be seen going into an adult store together.” 

Harry scoffed, “You’d know I’m too much of a pussy to even read those signs.” 

“Get coffee, wear a cute outfit, grab lunch. You can do all those things, I talked to the Boss about it and they said that it’d be fine.” 

“Wait wait wait, what are you pulling? What’s the catch?” Harry asked with suspicion, raising and eyebrow when all Louis gave him was another shrug. 

“No catch, I just know you’ve been kind of down in the dumps and feeling kind of trapped lately, wanted to let you know of an opportunity, you know? You don’t neeeeeed to date him, or do anything at all.” 

“Repeat that in a different way.” 

“Zayn’s a career ender, Liam’s a free joy ride. Wouldn’t hurt to talk to the latter.” Louis ruffled his hair and smiled fondly when Harry looked intrigued. 

Together they watched from a distance Zayn and Liam coordinate with their respective stunt doubles and with each other, and although it seemed Zayn was still his smiley, eccentric, bright self, Harry couldn’t help but feel like things were not as they seemed. 

* * *

“Ah, that tickles,” Harry squirmed as Bella and Louis practically held him down for the bruise makeup on his neck. “Eek!” 

“Listen,” Bella laughed at him, “You think you have it bad? I just made Liam sit his ass down for two hours so that I could plaster a fake exit wound onto his head.” 

Harry inhaled sharply, “Ouch,” he joked, rubbing the side of his head and making everyone in a three foot radius chuckle. 

Six feet away from him, Zayn was seated at Marcy’s station as she worked on creating some rudimentary cuts on his cheekbones—from being punched hard by Liam. He stared straight ahead, even when he could see in the corner of his eye that Harry was faced and looking right in his direction. 

But it wasn’t like Harry could audibly react and express his confusion, so they stayed separate for the rest of the day. 

Harry always had a hard time remembering events that occur when he drinks, because it’s almost as if the morning nearly always sweeps it away. He tried to concentrate on Ebele finding Eli again, but his tactics of setting aside his distractions weren’t working because all he could think about was what he could’ve possibly done wrong yesterday night for Zayn to suddenly start acting like this today. 

ELI drops his fists, standing still and staring directly at ADNEY’s limp body. He is bloodied and bruised, and ADNEY looks just as beat up despite being nearly twice ELI’s size. 

ELI (shaken up) 

F-fuck. Ad? 

He bends down and makes sure ADNEY’s alright, breathing in subtle relief when he discovers a pulse. 

ELI walks backwards, backing up cautiously and watching his surroundings before rushing to the door. 

ELI 

Eb, you can come out now. We have to go. 

EBELE is crying in the bathtub. 

EBELE 

I don’t understand— 

ELI rushes over to him and holds his face. 

ELI 

It’s okay, it’s all going to be okay. 

ELI’s hands are shaking, his knuckles are bloody, his lip is cut, cheekbones bleeding, a bruise already beginning to form on his jaw. EBELE is understandably not convinced. 

EBELE (shakily) 

Eli, I want to go home. 

ELI 

I’ll get you home, I swear. But we have to go right now, I just need a little more time. 

EBELE (sobbing) 

Time to do what, hurt more people? 

ELI seems unnerved and distraught, even though he is trying to put up a front of dependability and charisma. 

ELI 

I’m going to figure it out, then...then you never have to see me again, yeah? I’m sorry, and I swear I’ll fix it. 

EBELE shakes his head, clasping ELI’s hands with his own. 

ELI lets go of EBELE’s head and pulls him up into his arms, walking out of the bathroom before setting him down and helping him out of the room. 

ELI 

I have another place we can go. 

EBELE looks at ADNEY’s sleeping form one more time before facing forward again and nodding. 

  
  


“Cut! We’re stopping here for today.” The director motioned for everything to stop, and Zayn let go of Harry so quickly that he nearly fell flat onto his face. “Okay, to recap, we filmed scene three first, then scene one, and finally scene two.” The director looked so fucking delighted, “We’re nearly done with Act Two, this is so exciting.” 

“C’mon Haz, let’s get you cleaned up and go home, it’s nearly 11,” Louis beckoned, and although it seemed like Zayn was going to come over and say his usual praise, Harry felt bold enough to walk away before his courage could be put into action, for the real question was…why was Zayn acting so weird today in the first place? “Finally got a day off tomorrow.” 

“Yay,” Harry smiled, scrunching up his nose when Marcy began to wipe his face. “We dids it, Marce.” 

“That we did, Harry, that we did,” Marcy tiredly replied, looking very satisfied nevertheless. 

In the distance, Alex could be seen dragging Zayn by the arm, exclaiming lecturous sentences and what seemed to be the usual reprimands. 

“Hiya, sorry for barging in like this,” A man that Harry recognized as Liam’s manager came over, a hand outstretched just like how Liam had greeted him. Harry smiled and shook it, feeling like it was so cute that Liam must have adopted this little quirk from him. “My name’s Bowie Cuthbert, it’s a real honor to finally have a chance to talk to you, Mr. Styles, last time we filmed together Liam and I had to rush out so quickly without even having had a proper introduction.” 

“It’s fine, really, it’s an honor to meet you too, and just ‘Harry’ is fine,” Harry whooped on the inside when Marcy announced that she was done wiping his face. He got up, letting Louis take Bowie away again as Liam finished up as well behind him. 

_ Zayn’s a career ender, Liam’s a free joy ride.  _

Before he knew it, Harry was tapping Liam on the shoulder. 

“Sorry, I’ve never done this before, and so if I fuck it up, I just wanted to say sorry in advance,” Harry let the words spill out of him like sand in an hourglass. “It’s just that…I was really impressed with what went down today, it’s not often that I get to work with people that can get a scene down in three takes flat.” 

Liam rubbed the back of his head, shyly shaking his head as Harry praised him, “Nah, you’re the real talent here. If I had been better I honestly think we could’ve used every first take; that’s how good your acting is.” 

Harry looked up at Liam, who was undeniably handsome, a clean cut hairstyle with a slight and attractive beard, his shoulders broad and he practically towered over Harry like a gentle giant. “I—would—I mean,” Harry stuttered, Liam blinked quickly. “Oh god, might as well just spit it out. Would you like to get coffee sometime?” 

Liam looked genuinely surprised, squeaking while pointing at himself, “With  _ me?” _

Harry nodded quickly, lips sealed tight and heart pounding all nervous. “If…If you, well, if you’re free. I know how busy you are, I don’t want to make it seem like I want you to clear anything for me, and if you can’t, it’s alri—“ 

“Yes,” Liam cut him off, “Y-yes, I mean I do have free. Free time, I mean. Or maybe I meant to say that I was free, gosh, I’m getting all jumbled.” 

Harry could see Louis smirking at him from behind Liam, and he felt so embarrassed he wanted to drill a hole to the center of the Earth and jump in. “Here’s my number.” Harry asked for Liam’s phone and typed it in, and it occurred to him that he had never gotten Zayn’s number. Anyways, Harry had just accomplished a severe goal, and by the looks of how Liam was acting, it seemed like everything would go swimmingly. 

Harry ran faster than Usain Bolt to the car, nearly asphyxiating himself by the time he got there. 

* * *

_ Knock knock knock knock knock knockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknockknock _

“Hi Zayn,” Harry said before even seeing who it was at the door. He had just finished showering and drying his hair, feeling quite good about how he looked relatively decent. 

“Hi,” Zayn’s fist was still in the air, quickly dropping it. He looked nervous, a little embarrassed and not like himself. “Sorry to bother you.” 

“It’s no bother,” Harry waved it off, letting Zayn in and closing the door with a deep exhale. “What’s up?” 

Zayn looked a little sheepish, putting his hands in his pockets and looking up at Harry nervously, “Honestly? It’s lonely being at home alone.” 

Harry was already seated on the couch and surfing through Netflix, patting the seat next to him in an oddly disconcerting and confident way. “I get you.” 

Zayn took off his jacket like he always does because he always wears one, obeying Harry’s silent command as if some invisible force was moving his body for him. 

Harry turned on the show, giving it a few minutes before he shifted closer to Zayn with newfound confidence, noticing how Zayn was slightly retreating when he did so. “Zayn,” 

“Yes?” Zayn’s voice sounded like he was trying to hide something. 

“Are you okay? You seemed a little off on set today.” Harry fiddled with the battery cover on the back of the remote, trying to look anywhere but in Zayn’s direction. “Did something happen?” 

If Harry could see Zayn’s face right now, he’d already see his answer stricken in his eyes and the way his face dropped. “No, not really. Just got really tired and stuff,” 

“Yeah?” Harry looked up and Zayn, the professional actor, lifted his cheeks into a smile. “That’s good then. I didn’t get a chance to say this earlier, but you were incredible today, I couldn’t stop looking at y—I couldn’t be distracted, yup, that’s what I mean.” 

Zayn breathed out, his shoulder beginning to relax as Harry was now snapping the battery cover off and back on, still feeling strangely awkward about making eye contact. 

“You know, Harry,” 

Harry looked up. 

“You have no idea how great it is to have a real friend as a co-star. Practically everyone I’ve worked with in the past were so mean, you know?” 

There was a pregnancy of silence. 

“Y-yeah, I know what you’re getting at,” Harry’s heart felt like it was in his throat, and for Zayn, his was already trying to shove itself down his esophagus. “This is the first time I’ve really made a friend that’s come over more than once, and not for a publicity get-together. I think I match kinda good with you, Zayn.” 

“That’s…that’s great,” Zayn was trying to say the words while holding his breath, which of course was impossible but somehow his body willed for him to try. If he breathed, maybe he’d wake up and realize it was a dream and he never got close to Harry in the first place. If he breathed, maybe it would just make his heart drop lower. “I think so too, I like your taste in art and your piano.” He motioned vaguely, realizing that they had nothing to say past that. 

But the thing was, he did and he knew it. He was screaming it from his lungs, all the things he wanted to say and never asked, words that have somehow still stayed with him for over two years despite being controlled by his bullet train of a mind. 

“Where did we leave off? Five or six? Gosh, I can’t wait till we get to the season finale,” Harry sighed contently, fiddling with buttons and pressing play. 

Zayn shook his head, “You can’t wait? I hate watching season finales without the next season right after. I can’t take it, I get so invested that it’s almost a stab that they cut off right when it gets thick.” 

“I think it’s just because you don’t like when things are over,” Harry giggled, and Zayn frowned, wondering just where the hell that came from. “I mean, you always seem so disappointed when you finish something. Bottle of water, an intense action scene, even finishing a piano piece, but I could be wrong. Am I?” Harry looked over for the first fucking time, realizing that Zayn was not laughing or even pretending to smile. 

“The conclusion you came up with is kind of a reach based on the evidence, no?” Zayn leaned back, getting comfortable again as Rachel Brosnahan appeared on screen, looking absolutely fabulous and nouveau riche. 

“But it’s also just a feeling I get every time I talk to you. You’re so antsy that you can’t even finish a conversation without having moved on to another topic.” 

“True,” Zayn relented, “I guess I get nervous sometimes that everything will change before I get to say a word in it.” 

Harry looked at him like he was thinking deeply about what he said, and that’s the first time anyone’s ever given Zayn that look, as if they took him seriously and was actually trying to absorb him. 

It was so fucking cute that he’d be okay with letting his heart fall right into his stomach. 

“That was very profound,” Harry said in a joking manner, Zayn snickering in response. “‘Hi, I’m Zayn and I like to drop literary masterpiece bombs onto people at the most random times ever.’” 

“Hey,” He drawled, playfully pushing Harry’s arm. “Don’t make fun of me for trying to sound smart around you.” 

Harry’s eyebrows raised. “Me? Smart around me? I barely got my GED, dude. You’re the one who went to college for Theatre and shit,”

“Well someone’s been doing their research,” Zayn snorted when Harry went bright pink and cringed at himself. “Your level of education can’t change how smart of a person you are on the inside.” 

“...I guess so?” 

“Some of us have to figure it out through layers and layers of education and strife, but others, like you, can already tap into that part of you that can just,” Zayn snapped his fingers, “ _ Get _ it. Others like you just get how things are meant to be said and done.” 

“Jesus, are you Charlotte Brontë? Harry lowered the television volume. “And stop it, you’re making me blush.” 

“Excuse me for trying to reach your league, Harry Styles, excuse all of us, for we are merely ants in your ten year seasoned presence gracing America’s screen,” Zayn came closer, so of course Harry did too. 

“Do you really mean that?” Harry asked, the glow from the bright scene on the television illuminating the side of his face and making his left pupil sparkle just a tiny bit. Zayn could see the small particles of dust that were exposed by the light and became mesmerized by how flawless Harry’s hair was. 

“I do.” Zayn admitted it truthfully. “I really, really do.” 

Harry went silent, they both did, trying to figure out just what the fuck was happening between them. 

Let’s break it down: 

Yesterday, unnecessarily acted out a bed scene. Play-fucked? Pantomimed the Devil’s Tango?

Today, Zayn completely ignored Harry even when they met eyes on set, did not say a word to him outside of the scene they filmed. 

Today, Zayn friend-zoned him and is now flirting with him in the same breath. 

Today, Zayn is coming closer and closer and closer and closer— 

“Do you want a drink? I make a mean Sex on The Beach,” Harry blurted right when Zayn was about to get too close for mind-clarity. 

“Sure, sure.” Zayn pulled back again, also confused as what the fuck was happening. 

Breaking it down again: 

Yesterday, he pinched Harry’s thigh and his moan made him so hard that he had to physically remove himself from the couch and walk in all the corners of Harry’s apartment to will it down. 

Then they kissed, and although Harry couldn’t remember, Zayn did. 

This morning at 3 AM, he carried Harry to his bedroom and decided impulsively to build a pillow fort around him, scribbled a note onto a random pen and pad he found near the piano, and left before the world was awake. 

This morning, he saw Harry’s manager talking to Liam Payne’s manager. He saw Alex go and join them, and an epiphany hit him like a truck. 

Just what the fuck was he thinking, getting close to someone unattainable on so many levels? Practically having led him on from the beginning of production by calling him “babe,” trying to harmlessly flirt every once in a while because he wanted over and over to see him blush. 

Now, on Harry’s couch, just what the fuck was he doing? The words being vomited did not match a single bit to the actions he was demonstrating, and he had no idea how to make it better. 

He didn’t want to be friends, but he couldn’t say that. 

He wanted to send Harry random pictures of dogs and cool flowers he sees on the street because Alex doesn’t let him spam him anymore, but he still hasn’t asked for it--Harry’s number. 

Every time the one or two stray paparazzi would take pictures of him going into the building, it was assumed that he was repeatedly trying to ‘make things right with Isabella after cheating on her with Hungarian model.’ But that wasn’t an excuse to just come over every night willy nilly, maybe Harry doesn’t like it. Maybe Harry is just trying to be polite and get through it until Zayn leaves and it’s all fucked. 

‘I think I better go.’

_ Those _ words never left his mouth. 

“Here we are,” Harry came back with some glasses, smiling tenderly at Zayn like he was a cute puppy at the pound. At least, that’s how Zayn interpreted it. 

“You’re talented, it looks legit,” Zayn’s eye twitched as he tried to down the rest of it, Harry physically stopping him by tilting the cup. 

“Careful, I put more vodka in it than normal people do.” Harry warned, a little shocked at how Zayn really tried to down an entire 16 ounce cocktail as if it were a shot. 

Zayn shrugged it off though, giving him a cheeky smile before slowly sipping at the rest. 

By the time the episode was over and the credits were blasting, Harry had made Zayn two more Sex on the Beaches, brought out a random whiskey from the cabinet, and got the both of them absolutely piss drunk, hammered, inebriated they probably couldn’t touch their nose if asked. 

“You could’ve been a bartender if you weren’t an actor,” Zayn slurred, pressing his cheek against the top of the couch. “I’m serious, that was really,” He started giggling, “—really good.” 

Harry wasn’t having it, his pupils blown out and his lips so red and sore from biting them all night, frustrated and feeling ballsy enough to conduct an experiment. He grabbed Zayn’s shirt and pulled him closer, until their noses were barely grazing and they could feel the other’s breath on their lips. “I’m starting to get it now.” 

Zayn was so heavy and mindless that he didn’t have the mental bandwidth to try and understand what Harry said. So he responded with his first instinct, per usual, “We shou’nt do this. It’s not—it’s not good, you’ll get gutted ‘cause of me.” 

Harry dropped backwards onto the couch, pulling Zayn with him. “I can keep it a secret.” 

“I can key it a secray mah ass,” Zayn rolled his eyes, but kissed him anyways. His vision was a kaleidoscope of color and hallucination, Harry’s face embedded in every frame. “What about Liam? I saw you talkin’ to him.” 

“Zayn,” Harry was beginning to get annoyed. 

“Okay,” Zayn ran his hands up and down Harry’s body, worshipping every crevice it created, marveling at how Harry looked so pliant and eager to let Zayn do whatever he wanted. He rediscovered his tongue, “Tell me what you want, babe.” 

“I want to meet David Bowie, but that ship has long sailed.” Harry still had the nerve to snip a clever remark, whimpering when Zayn pulled his shirt up and over his head. 

“You’ll meet him someday, in Heaven. Or Hell, it’s kind of a gamble,” Zayn mouthed at Harry’s neck, kissing and biting sweetly whilst splitting his knees with his own. 

“Zayn, I don’t think I’m ready to…” Harry gripped at his shoulders a bit more when he felt his hips being lifted onto Zayn’s lap. “Y’know.” 

Zayn nodded, slipping his tongue past Harry’s lips messily and groaned when Harry tried to close his legs in reaction. They made out for the next few minutes, nearly rolling off the couch and injuring themselves. 

“--Other stuff!” Harry blurted out when Zayn let him breathe, “We can do…other stuff. I don’t feel like leaving it like this, yeah?”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck yeah.” 

“Don’t you be gone in the morning. I’ll be sooooooo mad I’ll never bake you--” Harry hiccuped loudly. “--cookies again.” 

Zayn held him and brought him up, now Harry was just sitting on his lap and had the height advantage over him. The way Harry’s hair felt when it was on his face, his hips desperately rolling, so bloody drunk that they didn’t even remember their own names. 

But somehow, Harry managed to remember one thing. 

“By the way, can I have your number?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> by the way, if anyone is still confused about the filming of the scenes and is like "wait didn't liam die already how is he fighting zayn in the next scene" they filmed the scenes in the wrong order. sometimes on fim sets they have to film differently based on different circumstances, such as resources, settings, the daylight, etc etc...  
love you! 
> 
> comments clear my skin and gives me college acceptance letters. please leave one i lub u


	4. sexy beast cutesy monster gremlin adonis demigod-like thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **i'm tryin' hard to stop the rain**  
**'cause smilin' doesn't feel the same**  
**i just called to tell you, "Drive safe"**  
**will I see you in the mornin'?**  
**'cause I just wanna feel your touch**  
**'cause I don't think I had enough**  
-rich brian, drive safe

“Off, off, off,” Harry gasped, tugging at Zayn’s shirt. “Zay—“ 

“Okay, okay,” Zayn removed Harry’s hands and pulled his shirt over his head, pausing for a moment afterwards when he got dizzy. “Aight, I’m back.” 

Harry immediately slapped a hand on Zayn’s abs, almost looking kind of angry while he stared at them, then released another noise when Zayn moved his body closer to his. 

“What do you like, baby?” Zayn added the ‘y’ to ‘babe’ and Harry was all for it, pulling his head down as a response. 

“I dunno,” 

“You dunno?” 

“I dunno.” Harry reconfirmed his absolute virgin-ness as Zayn began to plant open-mouthed kisses on his neck. 

“You,” Zayn asked, having had one of his big hands on Harry’s torso this whole time, pushing his knees more forwards so that Harry’s would spread farther. “Where touch you? Touch where you?” 

“Touch me here,” Harry motioned to his whole body, and for a second, Zayn looked like he was trying to process a way to touch every part of Harry’s body simultaneously. “Zayn, please.” 

“Off, off, off,” Zayn mimicked Harry as he pulled down his sweatpants, kissing him every moment he could. “Fingers?” 

Harry whimpered a yes, suddenly feeling very shy when the cold air touched places that usually weren’t exposed this time of the night. He tried to roll his body onto his side as an attempt to hide, but Zayn was having none of it. 

“Kiss your face,” Zayn mumbled, shaking his head as lightly as he could to prevent the world from spinning. “Lube?” 

Harry stopped, trying to think about where he put the lube. Louis had gotten it for him along with a dildo one birthday as a joke, but he had no idea where he stashed the both of them. 

It suddenly came to him, and this time, he rolled all the way over his stomach in embarrassment, and Zayn just blanketed over him and began to kiss his shoulder in confusement. “Kwofee table.” 

“Hm?” 

“It’s in the coffee table.” 

“Why?” 

“I don’t fucking know why,” Harry grumbled, smashing his face farther into the cushion as Zayn curiously moved to open the secret compartment of the coffee table that he had so peculiarly recognized when he first came over. He sifted through the random junk, papers and all before spotting the box and the bottle and bellowed a laugh so loud it could’ve woken up the upstairs neighbor. 

(There is no upstairs neighbor.) 

((Perhaps Zayn has woken up God.))

“God, you’re so cute,” Zayn grabbed the bottle, going back to Harry gently. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Harry wheezed, practically going into rigor mortis when he felt Zayn just pump out the lube directly onto his skin. “I thought you were supposed to do that to your fingers.” 

“You need a lot,” Zayn explained, “Espeshallee first time, ya know?” 

“Mhm,” Harry gripped at him, “Zayn?” 

“Put your leg up, baby,” Zayn whispered in his ear, and god, it felt like he could just come from listening to Zayn call him ‘baby’ over and over again. “That’s it.” 

“Zayn, ‘m cold,” Harry looked up at him, flushed and lightly shivering beside him. 

The response was nearly unfathomable, because Zayn shifted their bodies so that Harry was now sitting up in between Zayn’s legs, his back against his chest and being blanketed by the hottest man in the world. 

“Same thing, babe.” Zayn had a hand on his inner thigh. Harry spread his legs slightly, feeling very exposed and utterly submissive. 

When Zayn spread some more lube on his fingers and reached in between, his hand disappearing past Harry’s pelvis and rubbing against his hole, Harry thought that he could die like this, he really could just go to Heaven early right about now. 

“Breathe, baby, you’re holding your breath,” Zayn nudged his nose against Harry’s face to have him open his neck out a bit more, kissing and breathing hotly up to the back of his ear. 

Then he pushed his index finger in, and Harry’s immediate reaction was to squawk and grab Zayn’s thigh hard. 

“Ah fuck,” Zayn groaned, gently prying Harry’s hand off while the other hand was still stationed mid-mission. “You wanna stop?” 

“Mmm,” Harry shook his head, turning around and looking upwards. “Kiss me.” 

“Okay,” Zayn smiled, bending down to meet his lips and pressed in more, trying not to prematurely come from how Harry was fluttering his eyelashes and dropping his jaw at him, alternating between that and biting his lip while slowly thrashing his head about. “God, baby, you’re so fucking hot.” 

Harry felt Zayn’s palm touch his skin again, looked down and realized that his finger was all the way inside him and he didn’t know how to feel about it. 

When Zayn began to move it, it kind of hurt, making Harry whimper and squirm. “What’re you doing?” 

Zayn kissed his head, “Trying to find it.” 

It was amazing how Zayn’s diction deteriorated when he drank but his coherent memory of how to fuck a guy exponentially increased to sex god-pornstar realm of talent. 

He smiled when he did find it, his finger doing a beckoning motion over the small nub inside of Harry, pressing it about and pushing hard on it. 

Harry looked like he just got fucked hard for an hour straight, tears were coming out of his eyes, throwing his head back and his legs were kicking the air. All just from one finger. Both could only imagine what he’d look like with Zayn’s dick— 

But of course, once it all got a little bit too much, the reason as to why you shouldn’t have sex while drunk finally hit Harry like a truck, he grabbed Zayn’s arm and shoved him out as he fumbled to the ground. 

“Are you okay? What’s happening?” Zayn, whose sense of gravity went sideways when he stood up a bit too quickly, was now also realizing the beautiful revelation about being hammered. 

Harry ran to the kitchen as Zayn ran to the nearest bag-like thing, and both threw up like the stupid, young, naive idiots they were, crashing to the ground like normal drunks in alcoholic sickness. 

“Fuck,” Harry rinsed out his mouth and crashed onto the ground, lying on his back and looking straight up at the ceiling. “Fuck.” He repeated, finally beginning to sober up from what was totally too much alcohol and lust-motivated determination. 

Zayn trudged into the kitchen as well, rinsed his mouth out in the sink and wiped it with the back of his (now clean) hand. “You okay?” 

Harry, still on the floor, was smiling with his eyes closed and ligaments limp. “I’m so okay.” 

Zayn shook his head and bent down to lay down next to Harry, tucking his bicep under Harry’s head so that it wouldn’t be against the cold floor. “We’re really stupid.” 

“Yeah.” 

“The whiskey was overkill.” 

“The whiskey was overkill and we are dumb,” Harry agreed, but his shit-eating grin couldn’t be taken away. “There’s a reason why engineers are engineers and we are watered down pornstars.” 

Zayn snorted, laughing loudly to the ceiling. 

* * *

“Ow, ow, fuck.” Harry’s neck was so stiff he felt like a dead tree, and when he rolled over, his soul left his body. “Oh fuck.” He was naked, and nose to nose with a man whose famous eyelashes were resting on his cheeks. “Fuck.” 

“Mmrrnrrnrgh?” Zayn mumbled, pulling his arm away from under Harry’s head, making the latter crash to the floor. “Ow, I can’t feel my arm, fuck.” 

“My fucking head hurts,” Harry moaned, he meant both from Zayn pulling the arm pillow out from under him and the massive headache he gave himself last night when he didn’t have the courage to do anything sober. 

“Oh god, my back. My back,” Zayn slapped the tiled floor incessantly as he willed himself up, shirtless and tan and magnificent and spicy looking— 

And Harry was still naked. 

Zayn instantly began to massage at his neck, broad back looking blotchy from where some parts were pressing into the floor harder than others, deltoids and triceps flexing—

God, Harry really needed to find his pants. 

But judging by how stiff and sore his body was, also having to consider the rate at which Zayn was turning, it seemed that the only viable option left was to act like he was asleep as boil himself for the sake of his pride another time. 

“Oh shit,” Zayn’s eyes met Harry’s body, almost adorably becoming shy and trying to turn away, but then realized he was a grown ass man, turning again to lightly place a hand on Harry’s arm. He began to hover over him, deciding to go as far as pulling Harry into his arms. “Harry, babe?” 

Harry stirred and “woke up,” trying to cover himself by sneakily rolling closer to Zayn, snuggling into his chest. 

“Ah, jesus,” Zayn rubbed at his face, wondering just what the fuck happened yesterday and what the fuck he was going to do now. “Harry, babe, why are you pretending to be asleep…?”

Harry fluttered his eyes in an unconvincing way, but Zayn pretended to buy it (though Harry’s face was four different shades of red) and smiled down at him. “Good...good morning?” 

“Good morning,” Zayn seemed sheepish, shyly pulling Harry in closer. “You’re not wearing any clothes.” 

“I’m sore.” 

Zayn’s face paled. “Wait, what? Did we—“ 

“ _ Your _ pants aren’t off, so I’m pretty sure we didn’t, but I’m definitely sore.” Harry mumbled, so embarrassed he couldn’t even show his face. 

“Oh gosh, I’m sorry.” 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I dunno.” 

Harry snorted at him, cracking a smile. He nipped at Zayn’s shoulder and Zayn looked back at him with his round doe eyes, lips slightly parted and staring at Harry like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Bambi eyes,” Harry whispered, suddenly realizing that the writer of their movie was a genius. “Pretty.” He reached up and touched Zayn’s cheek. 

“Ah, fuck,” Zayn shook his head, looking away and up above Harry’s head, trying not to lose his shit. “You can’t just do that, babe.” 

“Why not?” Harry asked innocently, resting his head against Zayn’s chest and looking up at him as if this wasn’t the most awkward situation in the entire world. 

Two boys, both capable of tremendous idiocy, on the kitchen floor, the details of the night before fuzzy in their heads, morning breath absolutely rank, and yet, undeniably and manifestly in love. 

“...’Cause I’ll kiss you,” Zayn scrunched his nose up when Harry ran a thumb over his eyelids. “Issa threat.” 

“Aight, whatever you say,” Harry yelped when Zayn swooped down at his neck, but his eyes couldn’t help but roll back when Zayn’s hands slid up and down his torso. “Wanna…wanna shower?” 

Zayn kissed his skin, almost as though he was kissing the top of a newborn’s head. “Together?” 

Harry’s cheeks flamed, he could probably die in this moment and be sent to Heaven and meet his maker right now having been completely satisfied with his life. “Y-yeah.” 

Zayn helped Harry up and he pulled Harry in front of him, his back meeting his chest, hands on his hips and he walked him towards the main hallway, “I like really hot showers. I also like taking a long time.” 

Harry’s voice became four pitches higher, “...Yeah, yeah…” 

“There’s lube on the couch,” Zayn whistled, and Harry’s knees went weak. “Wanna bring it with us?” His voice was low and Harry couldn’t help how hard he got from it. 

“Maybe,” 

“You’re a tease.” 

“Excuse me? You’re the one trying to fuck me in my bathroom!” Harry kept his eyes closed when Zayn finally just spun him around and gathered him up in his arms. He heard Zayn pick up the bottle and plop it into Harry’s lap, making him wrap his arms around his neck tighter. 

“Sweetheart, who said anything about fucking?” Zayn located the bathroom pretty easily, he’s been in Harry’s bedroom before and figured there’d be a connecting bathroom. “Baby, run us a bath?” 

“Zayn?” Harry did as told, gasping when Zayn responded by hugging him from the back. 

“Yeah, babe?” Zayn whispered, kissing his shoulder. 

“I…Is this for real?” Harry bit his lip and stepped in, Zayn followed. They sat down together, it was quite a large tub, Zayn didn’t really need to sit behind him, but he did. 

“Is what for real?” Zayn turned Harry’s chin and kissed him, the hum of the faucet almost guiding the steam up and in their noses. 

“Are we dating?” Harry clenched his jaw when Zayn pulled his legs apart. 

“Sure.” Well that was one shitty answer, but Zayn already had his hands where Harry wanted them, so he couldn’t say much more. 

“Ah,” Harry jerked when Zayn’s fingers touched his perineum, whining when his chin was tilted again for another kiss. “Hey, we should really actually bathe.” 

“We should ‘really actually’ bathe?” Zayn raised one perfect motherfucking eyebrow, moving his hands nevertheless and reaching for the soap. 

Harry dunked his head under the faucet to wet his hair, slapping the water onto Zayn when he flipped it backwards. After a brief moment of giggling and thoroughly getting each other soaked, Zayn grabbed Harry again and pulled him close. 

“Zayn,” 

“Yeah babe?” 

“I’m gonna shower shower over there, you stay here.” 

“Why?” 

“Because…I want you to do whatever you want once I’m clean.” 

“Oh. Are you sure you’re a virgin?”

Harry scoffed, getting out of the tub. “Are you sure you’re ‘straight,’ Mr. Zayn motherfucking Malik?” 

Zayn shrugged, cheekily looking him up and down as he walked to the shower stall at the other side of the restroom. “If it’s in the name…” 

Harry doesn’t think he’s ever laughed this hard in his life. 

* * *

“How many men have you slept with?” 

“Gosh, babe’s so chatty,” Zayn giggled, biting at his ear. They were on the bed, hair still wet and bodies barely dry, but it’s not like Harry could’ve really waited for Zayn to completely blow dry his head before dragging him to his bed. “I think about twelve.” 

Harry’s eyes bulged out of his head as the crack of the lube bottle lid pierced the room. “Tw-Twelve?” 

“Yes, babe. Spread your legs for me, sweetheart.” Zayn held onto the back of Harry’s knee and leaned forward to kiss him, overtaking his mouth and pushing him into the mattress deeper and deeper. “Turn over for me.” He whispered, nosing Harry’s nose with his own before reaching up to place a kiss on his forehead. 

Harry obeyed, turning over onto his stomach, gasping when Zayn grabbed his hips and pulled his knees underneath them to prop his ass up. “Zayn?” 

“Yeah babe?” Zayn kissed his back as he coated his fingers with lube. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” it came out like a whispered whine, and Harry wasn’t sure if he loved how he sounded right now, bent over and pliant for this  _ absolute manwhore career ender boy slayer _ . “But…I dun’ think…” 

“Yeah, sweetheart, I know,” Zayn blanketed over him, but Harry shook his head and buried his face into the pillow, feeling like he was about to cry. “Harry?” 

“Nngh,” Harry had the sheets gripped tight in his hands, which was the biggest indicator for Zayn to stop everything and gently turn him around, pulling him into his arms. “Zayn,” 

“Hey, you okay?” Zayn kissed his forehead again. “Wanna stop? We can stop.” 

“I want your fingers,” Harry blurted out. “But I—But I wanna see your face, like this.” The look on Zayn’s face was enough to make him come, honestly, but he was really trying to hold on for the sake of whatever was left of his pride. 

“Okay,” Zayn smiled in their kiss, using that distraction to press in his middle finger. “Hey, it’s okay, baby.” 

Harry’s immediate reaction was to clench and tense up, suddenly remembering that they had done this before and he had nearly gotten off with just one of Zayn’s fingers. It seemed Zayn remembered too, judging by the way he pushed it all the way in to his knuckle without a moment of rest. Harry’s hand flew to Zayn’s and grabbed it, “Fuc-Fuck.” 

“Found it,” Zayn let Harry hold onto him as he fucked his finger in and out, rolling it and massaging Harry’s prostrate like there was no tomorrow. “Yeah babe, just like that.” 

Harry was gone, he couldn’t even tell where Zayn was kissing him or how he was touching him, overwhelmed by the waves of pleasure being inflicted on him seemingly with no end. “Zayn,” 

“Want two?” 

Harry nodded quickly, which earned him a chuckle and a kiss to the forehead. He panicked for a moment when the second one pressed in, but Zayn easily held him down with his mouth, pulling another low cry out of him. 

“I’m getting three in here, babe, just so you know,” Zayn said before attaching his lips to Harry’s nipple. “You okay?” 

Harry nodded, knuckles white in the sheets and head pushed so far back into the pillow he was nearly being swallowed by it. 

“Need to hear you say it, babe.” 

“I’m okay,” 

Zayn kissed him again, ring finger lightly poking at his rim for a moment, Harry gasped and pulled away. “Babe, kiss.” 

“Mm,” Harry shifted so that he was closer to Zayn, whining high in his throat as Zayn shoved his tongue down it, pushing in his third finger. “Nngh!” 

“You okay?” Zayn kissed his forehead, smiling when Harry nodded so cutely. 

“I think I’m gonna come,” He panted into Zayn’s neck, grabbing the sheets and wailing when Zayn curled his fingers just right. “Zayn—“ 

“C’mon, baby,” Zayn had Harry trapped in his arms, squirming and begging for release. “Don’t look at me like that,” 

Harry’s eyes clenched as he came with a wail, throwing his head back and biting his lip once Zayn’s lips found their way to his neck again. 

“Yeah,” Zayn cooed, pulling his fingers out and wiping them on the towel that Harry had used to dry his hair earlier. He gently came back to the convulsing, glassy eyed boy, wiping his stomach and leaning close to him again. “Feel good, babe?” 

“Zayn,” It came out as a whisper. 

“God, you’re so perfect. So fucking perfect, babe, you don’t even know,” Zayn scoffed in disbelief, pulling Harry into his arms. “Look at you, hm?” 

Harry had actual tears coming out of his eyes, his crush, his celebrity as well as in real life crush had just made him come completely untouched just by fingering him for what felt like hours (was actually only about ten minutes). He sniffled, crying a little harder when Zayn held him closer in concern, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed with the situation. 

“I’m so dumb, I’m sorry,” Harry jerked upwards out of his grasp, sitting up and on the edge of the bed. “Christ.” 

“What’s wrong?” 

“This—this doesn’t feel right, Zayn.” 

Harry couldn’t see his face, but if he had, he would’ve witnessed the very moment Zayn’s expression completely dropped as he reached an arm out to grab him. Harry let himself be pulled and spun back around onto the bed, flinching when Zayn rubbed their noses together. “What doesn’t feel right?” 

“Doesn’t everybody outside think you’re with your girlfriend right now?” Harry tried to hide his face in Zayn’s chest when he started tearing up again. Now that he’s orgasmed, all the truths were coming out. 

Zayn didn’t really know what to say, “I—I mean, yeah. Sure. But I like you, Harry, I like you a lot.” 

“That’s...” Harry sighed, pulling away and getting up out of bed, pulling on some sweats and a t-shirt. “Alright.” 

Zayn didn’t have anything else to say, so he got up as well, grabbing his clothes from off the floor and rushing into them, his face felt hot and the room was spinning, all he wanted to do was leave. 

“I like you too, Zayn,” Harry automatically knew what he was doing, judging by the way he handed him his jacket and pointed to where his shoes were. “If that wasn’t obvious already. But, it’s just,” his hand flew to the back of his neck, “I dunno if I can really be with someone and hide. Coming out was supposed to mark the end of doing that, ya know?” 

“Yeah, I get you, don’t worry,” Zayn choked out, forcing a smile as he bent down to kiss Harry’s cheek. “I’ll see you soon.” 

“Yeah,” Harry smiled sweetly at him, soft curls framing his face and making the green in his eyes pop. “See you ‘round, babe.” 

_ He called me babe, _ Zayn thought dreamily, as though they were in high school and everything they did was a sin and a secret. 

But this was not high school, in fact, Harry never even went to high school, so the metaphor couldn’t be made. They were adults with responsibilities and…respect for themselves, Zayn reckoned as he went down the elevator and fingered the grooves of his car keys between his thumb and index. 

* * *

They continued this dance, Zayn completely acting like Harry didn’t exist until about 10 PM when he would just randomly show up at his house, but at least now Harry has his number…? 

But not today, Zaynie poo. 

“Liam!” Harry flashed a look in Zayn’s direction as he jogged over to the beautiful, beautiful boy, who quickly set down his script and smiled at Harry coming his way. “Let’s go out.” 

“Out?” Liam asked genuinely, standing up for Harry and making eye contact. 

Harry smiled at him, “Coffee. Let’s get coffee.” 

“But there’ll be paps,” Liam asked as he walked with Harry to the studio exit. “We’ll be seen together,” They were already outside in the parking lot. 

“Nah, it’s two in the morning. They have families to get to.” Harry shrugged at him, and blinking slowly, knowing it drives most men crazy. 

“Oh-kay,” Liam dragged, his smile turning into a laugh when Harry grabbed his hand and began to tug him onto the sidewalk. 

“How are you, Liam?” Harry asked with some uncharacteristic confidence, still holding his hand as if that was normal. They stopped at a crosswalk, 

“I’m, I’m doing good,” Liam smirked a little only because Harry was smirking. “A little surprised though, didn’t think this would ever happen.” 

“I want to be friends with you, Liam,” Harry knew he sounded like an asshole because Liam most obviously had a crush on him—

“Oh, good,” Liam sighed in relief (?) and walked a very startled Harry down the crosswalk. “I thought for a second there that something was getting lost in translation.” They got to the other side of the street and casually walked into a 24 hr drug store close to the set, still holding hands. 

“Hm?” Harry squeaked, then fixed his expression when he realized the audience surrounding them. “So…so you really wanna be friends?” 

Liam nodded, looking around for the shitty burnt hazelnut coffee, letting go of his hand to reach for his back pocket. “It’s on me.” 

“You might be the first co-star I’ve worked with that hasn’t tried to fuck me by now,” Harry pondered after pointing to the ‘cafe’ station and leading Liam to it. “It’s pretty grand.” 

“Well, Zayn motherfucking Malik’s straight, he hasn’t tried to…have sex with you, right?” Liam quipped, and Harry nearly choked and ate shit in one of the aisles. 

He cleared his throat, “Yeah, you’re right, haha.” 

“God, it’s like drinking soda ash,” Liam groaned, capping his coffee back up again as they walked out, Harry giggling silently next to him. “I wish there were night shift cafes, cafes that do really good Cordusios, you know what I mean?” 

“I love Cordusios,” Harry gasped, running in place on excitement. “They’re my favorite.” 

“I hate flat whites.” 

“I hate flat whites too!” Harry gasped again, thinking that he really did like seeing Liam laugh, he also really liked the way Liam would protectively hold an arm out in front of him before crossing the street. “They’re so…fucking boring.” 

“I agree wholeheartedly, fellow espresso diva,” Liam made a show of tossing his cup into a public trash can, Harry shaking his head in laughter when he added a twirl to celebrate his mini success. “Bah, we only one more scene left to film,  _ probably _ won’t pass out.” 

“Yeah, probably,” Harry raised an eyebrow, elbowing Liam gently as he took another sip of his horrendous hazelnut. “I can’t wait to go home, today’s just been too long.” 

Liam nodded, waving to his and Harry’s managers as they approached back to the studio, “You’re so chill, Harry, it’s really funny.” 

“How so?” 

“I used to watch you on my t.v, and my mom would always comment that you were probably some spoiled entitled brat in real life and I shouldn’t idolize someone like that. But after meeting you, wow, I don’t even think I ever took into consideration the way you laugh, and now you seem even more perfect.” 

Liam halted in his tracks when he realized what he said, growing profusely red and cringing at himself. Harry was delighted by his shyness, “Oh, c’mon, espresso diva, it’s probably just this poison we’ve been drinking for the last five minutes. Don’t go all tomatoey on me now.” 

“How can I not?” Liam groaned, sucking in a sharp inhale every time Harry strategically made eye contact with him. “Gosh, stop it. You’re so pretty.” 

“You’re prettier,” Harry said smoothly, and perhaps that was the final straw, judging by the way Liam ruffled his hair so hard in fell to the front of his face, covering his eyes. 

“Go love on your straight lover or something, God.” Liam ran off, probably to shriek to Niall about flirting with his celebrity crush. 

Harry had a genuine smile on his face and flush to his cheeks as he walked towards the set, coffee still in his hands as Louis jogged towards him. “Hi Lou.” 

“I see you’ve been, uh,” Louis waggled his eyebrows, and Harry pushed him off. “Not even Thor could compete with those arms.” 

“Harry,” Zayn called out to him, having obviously been staring at Harry all day but just now found an excuse to call out for him. “We’re uh, we’re about to start.” 

Louis rolled his eyes with his back turned to Zayn, and Harry just shook his head and smiled a small smile, walking over to let Marcy scream at what’s happened to his hair and why there was a coffee stain on his costume sleeve. ‘It’ll add depth,’ Zayn piped up again for the second time in a week of work where the topic was about Harry, even held eye contact with him for more than two seconds at a time. 

All before the camera started rolling? 

“Get settled, Harry dear,” The director chirped, still wildly energetic despite having had filmed for over ten hours straight at that point. Harry gave him a thumbs up, jumping up onto the bed and trying not to tremble from the breeze Zayn created when he came and got on it too. 

“Action.” 

ELI pulls EBELE under him, hovering over his body and staring right into his face. 

ELI 

Listen, there are a lot of things I want to say that I didn’t really get to before. 

EBELE pulls his head down for a kiss, silencing the moment as their heads and bodies move cohesively. Finally, they pull away. 

EBELE 

I know. It’s okay. 

ELI 

I love you. I—I always have, when we were friends, and then at some point I really loved you loved you, like the real kind of love, you know? But I was a fucking idiot. 

EBELE (giggles) 

Maybe you were. Or still are. 

ELI kisses him again, soft and sweet, more in ardor rather than lust.

ELI 

I love you. 

EL—**ZAYN** bends down and whispers into EBE—**HARRY’s** ear. 

**ZAYN **

Let me prove it to you, yeah? 

**HARRY** is confused…? 

ELI pulls back, smirking softly and his eyes glint in EBELE’s face. 

ELI 

God dammit, Eb, I didn’t know. 

EBELE (**stammering, apparently**) 

Did-Didn’t know what? 

ELI 

I gave you such a bullshit excuse for leaving you guys the way I did, especially after that summer. That I went to college—I never went to college, obviously. And—I couldn’t even recognize you now if someone held up a picture of you. 

EBELE 

I know. I changed too. 

ELI 

You really didn’t, though. And you have no idea how fucking happy that makes me. 

EBELE 

You saying I didn’t get prettier? 

ELI 

You did, but the parts that matter most, still the same. 

ELI shifts, flipping them over so that EBELE lays flat on his chest. 

ELI 

Most days, all I would think about is you, how much I missed everyone, what I’d do to see you again. Now, all I can think about is protecting you just so we can stay like this, and I dunno if that’s a bad thing. 

EBELE 

We just need to find out who, right? 

ELI’s chest is tight. 

ELI 

Yeah. I never want to live in a world where you die before me, okay? So let’s…let’s not give up, yeah? 

EBELE takes ELI’s hand and holds it to his own face, nuzzling into his touch. 

EBELE 

Yeah. 

EBELE pushes himself forward to kiss ELI softly. 

EBELE 

I love you. 

ELI blushes, looks away. 

ELI 

Yeah, okay. Let’s sleep. 

ELI reaches over and turns the lamp off, bringing the blanket up on top of both of them with EBELE still in his arms. 

TIME PASSES. 

EBELE suddenly wakes, looks over at the clock that reads 3:30 AM. He gently pries ELI’s hands off of his body and rolls off the bed. ELI was always a deep sleeper. 

EBELE leans over to kiss him on the forehead. 

EBELE 

Love you. I’ll figure this out and come back. I swear. Love you. 

EBELE pulls on a sweater, gathers his things, and leaves the room. 

“And…cut!” Billy shrieked, now looking ten million times more tired than he did before. 

_ Let me prove it to you, yeah?  _

Harry sprinted to Louis with his arms outstretched, looking very frazzled. “L-Lou.” 

“Good job, babe,” Louis grinned at him, but his smile faltered when he saw the look on Harry’s face. “What’s wrong?” 

“I wanna go home, ‘s all.” Harry mumbled into Louis’ shoulder, and the latter nodded. 

“Tired?” 

Harry nodded. 

“Okay bud, I’ll pull the car ‘round.” Louis kissed his head and had him sit down on a car near the exit, letting Liam’s manager ramble on and on to him about several different topics at once. 

Harry tried to keep up, unable to comprehend why all of these older adults had so much goddamn energy, nodding along and trying to form viable responses every once in awhile when asked a question. 

“Harry.” 

His head snapped to the sound, and there Zayn was, in his usual fashion, looking sheepish and forlorn. “H-hi?” 

“Hi,” Zayn looked around nervously, which made something inside Harry a little angry, but he tried to let it go as Zayn pulled up a chair next to him and sat down. “I uh, sorry about jumping on you earlier, I just didn’t really know how to bring it up, I guess.” 

Harry was honestly very confused, “Are you allowed to talk to me? You’re not worried one of our staff will take a picture of us and accidentally upload it for the world to see?” 

Zayn shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “Seems a bit unlikely for that to happen.” 

“Glad you think so.” 

“Harry, I really did mean it when I said I like you.” 

“Okay.” 

“No, really—“ 

Harry cut him off, “Zayn, I’ve been thinking about it for a while too, and honestly, I can’t fucking stop thinking about you. But maybe that’s the problem, because I don’t think I should be thinking about you.” 

“Why...why not?” 

Harry’s cheeks flamed, “Because you’re not out. Actually wait, no, you went back into the closet, as far as I’m concerned.” 

Zayn looked sad and sour, “It wasn’t really my choice.” 

“I don’t want to make it sound like I want you to fuckin’ come out for me or some shit like that, because that’s immature and manipulative, but at the very least, I can draw some goddamn lines before I get dragged through the mud again,” Harry sounded shaky, as if the words he was saying had been said before. “I like you, and I already know that’s not a good thing.”

“They do say too much of a good thing won’t be good anymore.” 

“Don’t quote Sam Smith if you can’t claim him, Zayn,” Harry muttered…jokingly. “I…I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?” 

“Wait, Harry—“ Zayn grabbed his arm and the inertia made Harry stumble back, was met with Zayn’s big brown eyes and the way his eyebrows were slightly furrowing. “I haven’t said what I needed to say yet.” 

Harry blushed, “Oh, right. Sorry, sorry.” 

“No, it’s okay, I mean, well—I don’t—I don’t really know how to say this,” Zayn let go of his arm quickly when a stagehand whisked by them. “But, I really mean it when I said that I liked you more than I could even explain. It’s taken me a few weeks—months, maybe, actually, nah, years, to figure out just how I wanted to start explaining it.” 

“What’s happening here?” Harry threw his hands up in the air, but let Zayn pull him outside to the other end of the studio. 

Zayn looked like he was about to faint. “You know that time I guest-starred on Cheyenne?” 

“Yeah?” 

“How we all went out afterward, the cast and the guests and shit?” 

“Yeah?” 

“And how we were filming in Scotland, so we all stayed in the same hotel?” 

“Just where is this going?” 

Zayn took in a deep breath before locking eyes with Harry again. “So,  _ Edinburgh is great in the Spring come Summer, it’s nice and warm and the countryside is just beautiful.”  _

“Huh?” Harry gaped, getting a shit ton of deja vu thrown at his face. “What?” 

Zayn licked his lips, his hands were shaking, “We bought a £200 bottle of whiskey and sat at the edge of the bathtub--'cause there was no pool--and finished the whole thing, do you remember?” 

“No,” Harry answered truthfully. “Did we—did we do anything?” 

“God no, I could never have done that,” Zayn shook his head. “But the thing is, we talked a lot that night. You drank more than me, and I ended up spilling a lot of shit to you that I haven’t even told my own mother.” 

Harry stared blankly at him. 

“...And ever since then, I couldn’t stop thinking about all the things I said to you. How safe I felt.” 

“It was probably because you knew I wouldn’t remember,” Harry was being an asshole and he knew it. 

“I came out to you before I even came out to my best friend at the time. I told you about everything, we talked about how we have the same favorite card game, our dreams, all our irrational fears, and all the things we wish we could do.” Zayn looked miserable like he was going to cry. “Then you kissed me, and we fell into the tub, do you remember?” 

_ That _ Harry did in fact remember, and it was obvious when the memory hit him, how his face went from tense to pliant in realization. “Yeah, I think I do.” 

“...And I told you that I could never come out because if I did, my mom would never let me see my daughter again.” 

_ What?  _

“What?” Harry didn’t mean to sound so shocked, but he couldn’t help it. “Wait, wait wait wait wait—“ 

“I got a girl knocked up in high school and now we have a four-year-old daughter, her name is Eirlys.” 

“Er-liss?” Harry asked dumbly, not even flinching when Zayn came closer and placed a hand on his arm. 

“Yeah, it’s Welsh. For ‘snowdrop’ or something, she named her,” Zayn smiled a small bit, like he was remembering some powerful things. “I told you that, and I haven’t even told Alex that, y’know?” 

“Oh-okay,” Harry looked right up at him when Zayn came even closer. “Wait, but you did come out. I remember reading about it and you told me you did.” 

“I did,” Zayn nodded. “You’re correct.” 

“What did I  _ say _ to you?” Harry was dumbfounded, this was all very new information and he quickly decided he was never going near alcohol ever again. 

Zayn lips looked soft. “You told me that if people had multiple lives and spent them like money, you spent all of yours when you came out, but it was worth it,” Zayn’s hands had reached his back. “So I tried it too.” 

Harry thought he was going to throw up. 

“Wait, so you…you came out because of me? And you nearly lost your career and your daughter because of it? Fuck, fuck, I’m so sorry, Zayn, I don’t know why I can’t control myself when I’m drunk, it was fucking shitty of me to connive you into doing something like that—“ 

“Harry, you don’t get it, do you?” 

“Huh?” 

“I thought about you every day for three years. I thought about the things I’d say when I met you again. Alex told me to turn down this movie but I didn’t when I found out you’d be in it. But when I finally had the chance, I just panicked and shut down, and here we are, like three months in, finally revealing that we have a history like some fucking creepy weirdo.” 

“It’s not that weird, I’d be terrified to say anything too if I were you. And I kinda was, I was fucking terrified. I’ve liked you too, you know? Always kind of had a thing for you.” Harry gasped when Zayn pushed him into the wall and had a knee in between his legs, reaching down to kiss him, and it felt real. “Zayn, what if someone sees?” 

“I could give a flying fuck.” 

“You might actually if someone does see, you idiot,” Harry couldn’t say much though, Zayn had his lips on his neck within the next few seconds, kissing and biting his skin as if it was the most necessary and essential thing to ever exist. “Shit, is this real?” 

Zayn groaned, “Yes, it’s real. I’ve been literally crushing like some kind of fucking idiot for the last three months and even before that in pre-production when we were just introducing ourselves again and shit.” 

“I adore you,” Harry tried to beat him, “I mean it.” 

“I don’t doubt it,” Zayn replied, an answer that Harry did not at all expect, “But between the two of us, I think I adore you more. Fuck, the way you talk, the little skip in your step when you walk, shit, your hair, your smile, the fucking cookies you’d give me, the way you’d make sure everything was alright before we filmed something and you’d ask permission and say ‘thank you’ for the littlest things—I adore you. Jesus.” Zayn knocked their foreheads together. 

“Well, whatever…sexy beast cutesy monster gremlin adonis demigod-like thing.” 

Zayn snorted, “That’s fair.” 

“Not to mention you play the piano and build pillow forts around the people you like while they’re asleep, what a fuckin’ weirdo,” Harry drawled, earning him another kiss. “What’re we gonna do?” 

“I dunno,” Zayn shrugged. “Didn’t really think past this.” 

“Seems to be a pattern with you,” Harry teased, rubbing their noses together. “Haven’t even taken me out on a proper date yet.” 

Zayn responded by nipping at his neck, and Harry felt his pants tighten. Great. 

“Harry?” There were people calling for him from inside the building, and the two quickly ripped away from each other the second a staff member came out. “Oh, I found him!” She called into the studio, completely oblivious to the fact that Zayn was hiding behind a fucking prop cart. “Mr. Tomlinson’s waiting for you outside.” 

“Thanks!” Harry chirped too excitedly and followed her, but not before blowing Zayn a kiss and then spinning around so quickly his brain jostled about. 

Although, in the corner of his eye, Harry saw him catch it.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck just happened, you're probably asking   
:)   
i have the sat tomorrow and i want to die   
-j


	5. cats: the musical

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **i sent you a postcard from Tokyo, baby.**  
**you never picked it up.**  
**i even wrote it in Japanese, baby.**  
**you didn't give a fuck.**  
-troye sivan, postcard ft. gordi 
> 
> i'm sorry for breaking your hearts.

It was quite literally the next morning that Louis got a phone call from one of the producers that filming had to be postponed for a few months. It turned out that Liam and Niall had gone snowboarding together and Niall broke his femur, so they’re going to all have to wait until he’s good enough to jump and kick shit again. 

Harry didn’t complain though, he was being busied either way, had other projects he was doing, commercials, cameos, late late shows. After all, the product he was selling for a living was the image of himself. 

He thought Zayn would’ve acted upon all the things he said that day when he pushed him up against the studio wall as if it was some fucking high school anime, told him that not only had he had a crush on Harry for longer than Harry had been crushing on him, but he also had a daughter. Four years old, meant that Zayn had her when he was 18, when Harry was 17, when they were still babies, far apart from each other in a world so vast yet so small. 

It was like one of those sci-fi shows where characters would be running, turned the corner of a hallway, and ended up right back where they started. 

Harry really did feel like there was no way he could’ve ever escaped these moments that he stole from the universe, every scene he shot with Zayn, every ‘babe’ he accepted, every cookie he baked, every ‘thank you’ he said and never knew that Zayn had been listening. But here he was again, at the very beginning, where it was like all of those things never existed at all. 

A week passed by, then two, then three. It became too late to shoot him a casual text or a casual phone call, so now Harry was stuck there, flashing his pearly whites while staring down the lense of a black and rigidly shaped creature, kissing other people as he played multiple personas. Why wasn’t Zayn saying anything? 

_ Did he regret it?  _

“Hazza, stop frowning, you’re going to get premature wrinkles,” Louis used his thumbs to massage at Harry’s head, also kind of rocking it back and forth. “There’s lots of eye candy here, no need to be so stressed.” 

“I’m not stressed,” 

“Unfortunately there is no one here that resembles a certain Zayn motherfucking Malik, so we’re just going to have to adapt, aren’t we?” Louis wrapped him in his arms. “You haven’t said a word since this morning.” 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize, I didn’t say it because I wanted an apology.” 

“Okay.” 

“I said it because I kind of want to know what’s going on with you.” 

“Nothing’s going on with me.” 

“You clearly miss Zayn and it shows, no use trying to hide it.” 

“Why would I miss him?” 

Louis scoffed a little under his breath, fondly tousling Harry’s hair, “Like anyone can’t tell.” 

Harry didn’t respond to that, just let Louis continue to pet his hair and console him for what was apparently no reason. They were approaching the end of another shoot, the producers and directors were reviewing the footage of the very last scene and now everyone was just waiting to see if they needed to do something again. 

“All good!” One of them finally turned around and gave the thumbs up, and it was like everyone could breathe again. Harry promptly moved to shake every single one of his co-stars’ hands, being very polite and even going as far as to hugging the makeup artists and stage directors. 

“I’ll take you home,” Louis beckoned with his head and hand, Harry grabbing it almost desperately. “I think you need a break from all this. Wanna go on a vacation? We got time, thanks to one very lovely Niall Horan.” 

Harry laughed, “Maybe, but I think if I agreed you’d make me hike ninety miles in the ancient ruins of Peru or some shit, so I’mma have to pass.” 

“Fair enough. And Harry?” 

“Hm?” 

“Stop being sad, you promised you wouldn’t get sad over him.” 

Harry groaned, letting his head fall back onto the car headrest. “I’m not sad, gosh darn it, leave me alone.” 

“I’ve known you since we were pre-teens, Harry. I can tell when you’re about to sneeze ten seconds before it happens.” 

“Well, that’s not disconcerting at all,” Harry rolled his eyes, “I’m not bummed about Zayn, yeah? I’m…I’m…just sad that Niall broke his leg.” He didn’t want to use his skills to lie through his teeth, but here he was, lying to his best friend over a man who emotionally manhandled him and promptly threw him away. 

_ Story of my life.  _

* * *

Three weeks became a month and a half. Zayn still hasn’t said a word, in fact, he’s disappeared off the face of the earth, not even his agent could get ahold of him. It was embarrassing enough that Harry had to resort to calling Alex Rehn—a man who he had never called before—about his co-star that he barely talks to on set. Worried much? Obsessive much? 

Harry had always been a creative soul, an imaginative one, at the very least, as one does with a fondness for alcohol and running in the dense wet sand of a beach.

He imagined Zayn staring at his contact information on his phone and twiddling his thumbs left and right, ghosting over the call button, the send button, any kind of hope that he still  _ wanted _ Harry like he said he did, still wanted to be vulnerable and share worlds with him that he had never shown anyone before. 

He imagined Zayn possibly playing with his young daughter, running after her and laughing, her mother watching in the distance and smiling to herself. The sun would’ve been ambient and the sky would be bright, the grass would be blinding and the trees gave so much shade. What did she look like? 

He imagined Scotland. 

He became so weirded out by his obsessive thoughts that instead he was now trying to remember how this could’ve even happened. 

** _Three Years Ago, Scotland. _ **

“Jesus fucking Christ, it’s cold,” Louis shivers despite being wrapped in eight layers of wool and covered in a plaid. “Let’s just get this over with soon, yeah? Ah shit, I’ll wait in the van. Good luck babes.” He runs back to the trailer, leaping up each step and slamming the door shut. 

“Okay…” Harry looks in the direction Louis ran off to, turning back around and suddenly realizing he was very alone. All the staff were bustling and shivering about, the late winter wind freezing the tips of their noses and making their eyes dry out. 

But it’s beautiful, eh? The hills, the green, the air, the cobbled streets and the ever present smell of whiskey and haggis lingering amongst the breakfast places near their hotel, all the beautiful men, all the beautiful men. 

“Alright, we’re coming back!” One of the producers uses a gloved hand to spin it in the air, motioning for everyone to round themselves up to freeze to death attractively for the camera.

“Hi! We’re here, sorry we’re so late, got lost on the roundabouts,” A man jogs over, not dressed enough, with gelled hair and a bright smile on his face. “I’m Alex Rehn, nice to meet you, nice to meet you. So sorry, so sorry.” 

Harry doesn’t really give his all into paying attention, focusing on his co-star as they loosened their bodies up best they could before they started rolling. “‘Manda, can you move to the bit a ‘lil more? Thanks, babe.” 

The wind carries another voice through the air, deep and rusty unlike Alex Rehn’s crisp and sharp tone, introducing himself in the same manner behind the camera. 

“Haz, Haz!” Amanda jumps up and down, slapping Harry’s arm quickly. “He’s here!” She hisses, sticking her tongue out ever so slightly between her teeth. “God, he’s hotter in person.” 

“Watch out, ‘Manda, they say he’s a career ender,” Alice shakes her head, although she is most definitely drooling over the new arrival as well. 

“Who?” Harry is never made aware of any cameo actors in every episode, there have been so many it’s become more of a routine. 

“—always wanted to be on an episode of Cheyenne, been watching it for ages. I’m so happy to be here, the story looked so interesting…” The voice continued to network. Harry finally gives into his curiosity and takes one step to the left of the camera where Amanda and Alice were, blinking a few times to rehydrate his corneas. 

Well, shit. 

“Zayn motherfucking Malik,” he whispers under his breath, and his girlfriends snicker. “They really dragged Zayn motherfucking Malik all the way here, to be a guest on our show. To Scotland, and he actually came.” 

“I think you underestimate just how popular we’ve made our show, Hazza, plus, all of our episodes are over an hour long, so it was probably worth it to fly over here.” 

“That kind of language overestimates our show, Amanda, we’re not the Disney channel.” Alice tuts as they hold each other, which was the cutest thing ever.  _ Like penguins staying warm _ , Harry thinks off-handedly. 

“Hi!” He turns his head and nearly falls back on his ass when Zayn motherfucking Malik appeared five feet before him, his face absolutely angelic and his hand outstretched towards Harry. He was afraid to shake it, what if he becomes solid gold with just one touch? “You’re Harry Styles, wow, I’m so honored to finally meet you.” 

“Me?” Harry squeaks, Alice snorting next to him. “Wait, really?”

Zayn makes a face like he couldn’t understand Harry’s astonishment, “Of course! I’ve been watching this show since it first started and you were twelve! It’s like we grew up together.” 

“O-oh,” Harry tries to act charmed, even though almost every actor that he meets says that to him. “That’s really awesome, it’s nice to meet you.” He shakes his hand. 

“No really, I’ve been watching you since that episode where Alice poured soda on your head for trying to stop her crush from asking her to the winter formal. My voice started cracking the same time yours did, I graduated high school a month before it was announced that you passed your GED.”

“Gosh, even I can barely remember that,” Alice laughs, entertained by Harry’s flustered state while trying to actively prevent Amanda from touching Zayn’s face. 

“Sorry if that was weird, I just figured you must get that a lot, the whole ‘I’ve been a fan since the show’s beginning’ kind of thing. I just really wanted to let you know that I mean it,” Zayn smiles at him, and something inside Harry cracks. “We’re lovers in this episode, isn’t that cool?” 

“So—so c-cool,” Harry stutters, his body stiff as Amanda manually repositions him for their scene. “So, so cool. Cool. Yes, cool.” 

“We get it, Romeo, you think it’s cool,” Amanda and Alice shake their heads at him. “Now c’mon! Fake slap me!” 

“What’s happening?” Zayn walks into the lounge, it’s 9:30 PM. Harry, Alice, and Amanda are on the floor, playing cards strewn inside their triangle. “Cards?” 

“I’m trying to teach them Cambio,” Harry invites him with a smile, making space for him so that he could sit. The smell that wafts into Harry’s nose when Zayn plops down is almost sinful, it smelled expensive and fresh and  _ way out of Harry Styles’ goddamn league _ , so he stops thinking about it. 

“Cambio? That’s my favorite game,” Zayn gapes, eyes wide in Harry’s face. “I don’t know anyone who even knows it, I haven’t played in years.” 

Harry blinks, “R-really? I’ve never met someone who knew what Cambio was either.” 

“He’s been trying to teach us for the last five years,” Amanda groans, resting her head on Alice’s shoulder. “It’s just so…boring.” 

Zayn gasps dramatically, “That can’t be true! Mind if I try?” He holds out a palm for the cards Harry’s gathered up in his hands, flashing another look at him when the cards are handed over. “See, the basic premise of the game is…” 

His voices zones out as Harry zones in on the side of Zayn’s face. 

He doesn’t notice that everyone’s waiting for him to start until Zayn finally turns his head and looks right into his eyes. Harry makes a strangled noise, like a walrus that’s been slapped by a wave. 

“Aw shit,” Alice goads, Amanda snickering as they reposition their cards. “C’mon, Haz, let’s get a move on.” 

“‘Haz,’ that’s a cute nickname,” Zayn chuckles, no, fucking  _ giggles _ , and motions for any one of them to start the game. “I’ll let you girls win the first two rounds.” 

“They ain’t winning anythin’,” Harry smacked his lips. “I’m the reigning champion of the West Coast.” 

“Okay fine, none of y’all winning anythin’, because  _ I’m _ actually the reigning champion of the West Coast. You’re going down, babe.” 

Harry has no idea why that was so sexy. 

_ He called me babe.  _

_ Edinburgh sure is mighty cold, huh, Zayn?  _

_ You wanna come up to my room to cuddle and bitch about how we wished we were back in Cali? _

“Sure,” Zayn says enthusiastically, and it takes Harry a full minute to blankly stare at him as he reluctantly realized he said all of that out loud. The fact that he was so enthusiastic and not-sarcastic sounding in his response was another layer to try and process. 

Harry turns and realizes that Amanda and Alice were gone, looks down and realizes that he and Zayn had been playing Go Fish for the last who-knows-how-long minutes. Who knew that a person could play Go Fish whilst on mental autopilot? 

“Wait, really?” 

“You know, you’ve been silent and blank looking for the last half an hour and you look like you  _ just _ realized the girls are gone when they left ten minutes ago.” Zayn smirks as he takes Harry’s cards from his hand and reshuffles the deck, stuffing them back into their box without taking his eyes off of Harry’s face. “Look, you’re doing it again, going all glassy-eyed.” 

“It only happens when you look at me,” Harry tries and fails to make a joke out of it and ended up sounding like he was smitten or some shit or whatever yeah whatever oh fuck just shut up. 

“You’re pretty cute, ‘Haz,’ just to let you know.” Zayn shrugs, looking toasty, warm, cuddly. 

Harry blurts, “They say you’re a career ender. And that you fuck mothers.” 

Zayn chortles and suddenly he’s helping Harry up, his hands are on his waist, his lips getting close to his body. “Do they? That’s pretty funny. You think it’s true?” 

“And if I did?” 

“Are you not attracted to me?” 

“Unfortunately, frightfully still.” 

“Well, wanna go cuddle and bitch about how cold it is? By the way, I’m from Massachusetts, so this is kind of nothing, but you’re a beach boy, huh?” Zayn touches Harry’s face lightly with the side of his finger. “Nice tan, makes you look healthy, makes your eyes pop.” 

“Just cuddling?” Harry lets Zayn ghost his lips over his face, flutters his eyes shut. He never lets any man do this outside of filming. 

“That’s what you want, right? Keep warm?” Zayn makes Harry crumble into his arms. “What do you want, babe?” 

“Wait wait wait, aren’t—“ Harry has to catch his breath before continuing, “Aren’t you straight?” He blinks and suddenly they’re on the grand staircase, going up, Zayn’s hand tight around his middle, probably because his knees are so weak he might just fall onto the stairs if he let go. 

Zayn just shrugs with his response, “Everyone’s a little gay.” 

“Oh, lampchops fuck nugget,” Harry vomits his words as he unlocks his hotel room (which is right next to Zayn’s), and Zayn pushes him onto the bed. “I’m—‘M a virgin.” 

“Oh. Well, that’s okay,” Zayn kissed him and Harry’s never been kissed before. Well, never been kissed outside of filming a scene with a kiss in it, of course. “Your skin’s cold.” 

“Forgot my plaid downstairs.”

“Ah,” Zayn continues to rub his hands along Harry’s body, so Harry shimmies away to go to the desk. 

“A fan sent this to me, her family is the owner of one of the largest whiskey distilleries in Scotland,” Harry opened the box, the bottle was surrounded by paper pieces and nestled with some padding to prevent the glass from breaking. “Wanna open it? Dunno how much you like whiskey,” 

“I love whiskey,” 

“Good. Great, yeah.” Harry finds some glasses, holds them as Zayn fiddles with the bottle. Once it’s open, they pour into their respective cups. 

“Are you sure you should be drinking alcohol someone gave you for free?” 

“She didn’t give it to me for free, a 75% discount code, more like. Got it for £50 instead of £200.” 

“You think I’m a whore?” Zayn asks once he’s finished his glass. 

“I didn’t say that,” Harry mumbles one he’s finished his. “I don’t think you’re a whore. I think you’re a quitter.” 

Zayn looks confused and offended, so Harry pours more whiskey out. “What does that mean?” 

“I told you that people call you terrible things and you brushed past them like you spread the rumors yourself. You still made your way into my bed, kudos to you,” Harry burps, blushes, which makes Zayn smile. “Isn’t that quittin’? Just letting people call you those things?” 

“Denying something that’s true just makes you look more stupid, I think,” Zayn kisses him again. “Are you sure you don’t wanna have sex?” 

“I don’t wanna have sex.” 

“Okay.” 

Harry gasps when Zayn’s lips attach to his neck. “Well, I like that, keep doing that.” 

“Don’t worry, I will,” Zayn whispers in his ear. “No marks, right, babe?” 

“Yeah, no marks,” Harry’s back was now on the mattress, Zayn’s hands running on his torso. “Gosh, you’re so hot.” 

“You’re telling me? You’re smokin’, love,” Zayn lets out a whine when Harry rolls out of his grasp, grabbing his cup and stumbling to the master bathroom. “Where are you going?” 

Harry turns around, points to the bottle. “To run a bath, take that and come with me.” 

“You looked so innocent today, where did he go?” Zayn does as told, sauntering after Harry as he bent over to turn the faucet of the bathtub, which was facing the double glass doors that revealed a private garden patio. Harry laughs at what he said, testing the water, pumping in some body wash. He dips his feet in—and only his feet—before Zayn could conjure up any ideas. 

“Gosh, you’re such a flirt, aren’t you? The flirt, perhaps,” Harry shakes his head and has Zayn pour him another round. “Are you like this with every male actor you meet? No one’s outed you, then?” 

Zayn scoffs, “Only the really cute ones. ‘Cause they won’t say shit.” 

“We’re both assholes, then, I guess,” Harry smiles when Zayn dips his feet in and sits next to him. “Me for asking that and you for answering that.”

“You’re pretty chill,” Zayn cracks his neck, sighing contently when the whiskey made his whole body warm. “No one’s real like that anymore. ‘Cause for real real, you need to be a little bit of an asshole. You’re gay then?”

“Most definitely,” Harry was so drunk and Zayn could see it, his face flushed and hair messy. “You?” 

“Jury’s still out on that one, still counting on that mysterious bad boy image to get me things, y’know?” Zayn brushes Harry’s hair to the side. 

Harry laughs a small laugh, leaning into Zayn’s touch. “I’m out.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, just haven’t dated anyone buzzy yet,” Harry shrugs, closing his eyes when Zayn’s hand wandered to the side of his face and kept it there. “So the paps don’t care. Still a virgin too, might add.” 

“No way,” 

“I wish it weren’t true, believe me.” Harry opens his eyes slowly, which makes most men fall apart. 

But not Zayn, of course. 

“Can I kiss you?” 

“Haven’t you already?” 

“I wanna do it again,” Zayn whispers, blinking  _ his _ eyes slowly, and that makes Harry fall apart. “I have the same tricks you do, y’know. Sorry, but you can’t use them on a seasoned veteran.” 

“No tricks, I promise,” Harry smiles at him devilishly, and Zayn smiles back in the same manner. 

“I also say that too.” 

They both laugh a little, Harry more so than Zayn, fingers brushing over the paper sticker on the whiskey bottle, “Huh, ‘Edinburgh is great in the Spring come Summer, it’s nice and warm and the countryside is just beautiful. Locally sourced and distilled.’ That’s good, getting drunk on site on source.” 

Zayn snorts and pulls him close for a kiss, “I know we just met today, but for some reason, I feel some kind of connection to you. I can prove it. Let me prove it.” 

“God, did they make you straight from a cheesy rom-com? ‘I know I just met you today’ blah blah blah,” Harry laughs, but his enjoyment is cut short when Zayn turns the water back on and begins to strip the rest of his clothes off. “Uh…what’re you doing?” 

“Come on,” Zayn takes the glass out of Harry’s hand and sets it on the edge and pulls him in, clothes and all. “Sorry babe, you looked cold.” 

“What the fuck, bro?” Harry sputters, immediately moving to take his shirt off, trying not to automatically leap four feet in the air when Zayn helps him to do so. “What the fuck is happening?” 

“Sorry, I’m drunk.” 

“That can’t be an excuse for everything, god dammit, it’s freaking 2015, you know better than that,” Harry’s words are all jumbled and slurred, and Zayn can’t help but kiss his nose. “Did you just kiss my nose?” 

“I’m sorry ‘bout it,” 

“No you’re not,” Harry silently complains by pulling Zayn’s lips onto his, water and bubbles sloshing around and it takes a few minutes for them to rip Harry’s wet jeans off. “So…how are you gonna prove that we have an intrinsic connection?” 

“I can bet we share the same favorite snack.” 

“How much?” 

“I’ll come out if I’m wrong.” 

Harry frowns, “No. That’s not right, don’t say shit like that. That’s nearly offensive, plus, you have no idea what it costs to come out when you’re in this industry.” 

Zayn sighs, “You’re right, it was a badly made hyperbolic statement, I fully retract it in order to move on.” 

Harry nodded once, “Motion approved.” 

“I bet that we both like oreos and peanut butter.” 

Harry flutters his eyes multiple times, which is a sign to Zayn that he got it right, leaning in to steal another sweet and short kiss. 

“What the fuck?” 

Zayn is all smiles, “When I saw it in Parent Trap—“ 

“The one with Lindsay Lohan in it—“ 

“Yes, the one with Lindsay in it, you know that scene when she and her twin end up in the same bunk and they eat peanut butter with oreos, shit, my life was—“ 

“—changed. My life was changed, could never eat another oreo by itself ever again. Also, that movie was gold, because now—“ 

“You love going to London, right?” Zayn looks pleased when Harry makes a face like he’s seen a ghost. “I promise I’m not a stalker, but when your manager let me into the trailer while I was waiting for my time to film my stuff, I saw the Jif and the Nabisco and some part of me knew…just knew.” 

Harry is blushing so hard and looking so hopelessly in love he would’ve scratched his face off if he could see himself. “I like taking taxis in London now just because of that frickin’ movie,” He tells Zayn, who nods like he understands. “I made Louis stop by with me for a week before flying up here.” 

“Same, I made Alex share a room with me at St. Pancras, ran around in Tesco’s and bought five of each Cadbury derivative. It’s just one of those things, I guess. I never got to travel when I was little, so any chance I get I try and take a piece of wherever I go back with me.” 

“I like Wispas,” 

“Wispas are the best.” 

Harry’s heart is beating so fast he’s terrified Zayn could hear it. So he shakes his head and wildly looks around the bathroom to try and catch a hold of himself, trying to find anything—anything to change the subject before he falls too deep in what could totally be some ploy to get into his pants. 

His eyes travel back to Zayn, of course, because there’s no way he could just ignore it, but instead of his face his eyes traveled down to his body, but traveled back up a little because he was totally honing in on his junk which was rude, and ended up where his shoulders were. 

“Who’s…Er-lies?” Harry asks, unconsciously touching one of the many tattoos littered on Zayn’s skin. “It’s so small, maybe I’m not reading it right. Hm,” 

Zayn looks shocked, looking down at where Harry’s touching him and trying to hide how extremely surprised he is. “Y’know, no one usually notices that one, made it small on purpose.” 

“Is she the woman you love?” Harry teases.

Zayn shakes his head, biting his lip like he’s contemplating. “Not quite. She’s…well,” 

“Well?” Harry lifts one perfect eyebrow and Zayn just can’t believe it, can’t believe that he’s actually about to say this— 

“Eirlys is my daughter, she’s one. Um, the name’s Welsh, it means “snowball” or “snowdrop,” one or the other.” 

Harry’s face pales and he shifts uncomfortably, “Oh, so…you’re married? To a woman?” 

Zayn shakes his head so quickly he nearly makes the Earth spin faster. “No no no, uh, had her in senior year. Her mom and I are just friends.” 

“Oh, I see,” Harry laughs, trying not to feel awkward about pouring more water on himself now that he’s cold. “She’s back in L.A?” 

Zayn moves so that he can have Harry in his lap, feeling bold and authentic in his attraction to the latter. “No, her and her mom live in Big Bear. Her mom’s a ski instructor, so the name makes sense, to be honest.” 

“It does,” Harry chuckles, then bites his lip when his eyes meet Zayn’s once more. “We have another long day tomorrow. Should we uh, wrap this up?” 

“Go to bed?” 

“Uh—“ Harry’s so red he’s about to explode. “Go to…our own beds, yes, our own beds.” 

Zayn’s amused by this, so he stands up and makes Harry blush even harder at his almost completely nude body, looking desperately away while Zayn wraps himself up in a robe. He only follows once he’s sure to lock the bathroom door for some privacy. 

Then they were back in Harry’s bedroom, he brought the whiskey and the glasses back for one more fucking round, and once they polish it off, Zayn stands up. 

“Well, I guess this is goodnight,” He says, not speaking again until Harry’s close again. “Since I was right about the whole oreo thing, I have a demand.” 

“What’s your demand?” Harry’s so dizzy he doesn’t even know if the words are coming out right. 

“You said it costs a lot to come out, so what did it cost?” Zayn runs his hand through his hair dreamily, picking up his phone and keycard. 

Harry didn’t expect such a question, because no one ever really questions him about these sorts of things. “Well, I dunno how to explain it. It cost a lot.” 

“Well I know that much,” Zayn chuckles, though he looks genuinely curious. “Can you make a metaphor?” 

“They say a cat has nine lives, right?” Harry pipes up in his drunken haze, feeling so smart about the answer he came up with. “Well, say there was a gay cat, and the only way the gay cat could come out to the world that he’s a gay cat was to spend some of his lives like it was money…” 

“Uh huh…” 

“It costs all his lives. All eight backups. At the end of the day, it’s a termination plan and none of it’s fair, but it’s fucking worth it.” 

“And then is he selected by the Jellicle Cat community to ascend the stairs to Heaven?” Zayn snorts, entertained by Harry and his quirks. 

Harry scrunches his nose up, though. “I hate that musical, it’s so fucking weird. Grizabella is just burned in a tire fire.” 

Zayn laughs, bringing Harry up in another embrace to steady each other. “But she goes to Heaven. That’s what we all want in the end, right?” 

Harry smiles up at him, “I guess so. Maybe coming out just means you’ll get to Heaven faster.” 

“Me? If getting to Heaven faster means throwing all of my other eight lives away, I’ll do it without breaking a sweat. Money comes in a lotta forms, I guess.” 

“You wouldn’t rather just be a straight cat and live nine times?” Harry asks him, his thumb brushing over Zayn’s bottom lip. 

“This metaphor has gone truly wild,” 

“It has,” 

“But to answer your question, no. I wanna be free, you know? Sure, the world thinks I like fucking girls, but I don’t and so that’s why when the cameras are away I find some kind of autonomy in acting this way with people I really like.” 

Harry squeaks, “People you really like?” 

“Yeah,” Zayn whispers, kissing Harry as he opens the door. “See you ‘round, babe.” 

“See you round.”

“If I don’t see you, I guess I’ll just have to resolve on the fact that in my next life where I’m still straight and an idiot, you’ll be in Heaven looking down at me, right?” 

The next day’s shoot is cancelled when Zayn and Alex have to fly back to California for a “family emergency.” 

Harry doesn’t see him again, not until a certain producer contacts Louis about a new action drama he’d like Harry to be in. 

** _Three Years Later, Present. _ **

“Hi Li, how are you?” Harry puts him on speakerphone as he scrolls through the recipe on his Ipad. “You still on for tonight?” 

“Of course, Hazza, I just need to fold my laundry first though, give me a second,” Liam laughed, his hearty chuckle echoing throughout Harry’s kitchen. “What’re you making me?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Gosh, it’s probably gonna be bad, have Luck Thai on speed dial. I’m attempting to make Baked Ziti, if you must know.” 

“Yum,” Liam dragged it out. 

“Why are you folding your own laundry? Aren’t you Liam Payne, action movie extraordinaire Magic Mike hottie?” Harry teased, stirring the tomato sauce before tasting it and cringing. 

It’s been four months since Zayn confessed to Harry, four months since they’ve said a single word to each other. 

“Is Louis coming?” Liam asked, a shuffling was heard on the phone that Harry was being placed somewhere. “I’m almost done folding my laundry, I, oh so humble civilian of Earth.” 

“Yeah, he is. Is Bowie coming?” 

“But of course, as he has to watch and count every calorie I’m going to gorge myself on at your house. So make a lot, because today is my one day of disobedience.” 

“Yes yes yes,” Harry giggled. “I can’t believe we’re filming again, Niall healed that fast, huh?” 

“Yep, I guess he did,” Liam’s laugh was awkward. “Alright, I’m done, heading over now. Who knew you lived two streets away from me?” 

Harry snorted, “All of us are bunched up in our tiny classist sections of the city, Li. It’d be strange if you  _ didn’t _ live two streets away from me.” 

“You’re right,” Liam laughed. “See you in a sec.” 

“See you.” 

He hung up, continuing to stir his most definitely ruined red sauce, sighing in near disbelief. There was no way he was this terrible at cooking. Just what was wrong with it? 

“Hey!” Louis walked in, holding a bunch of bags with what looked to be Olive Garden. “What’re you doin’ over there? Get some casserole dishes and shit and make this look real. Throw that sauce away, smells sour as fuck.” 

“Oh god, I love you,” Harry whimpered, turning the fire off and rummaging through the cabinets. “Where would I be without you?” 

“Living in West Hollywood with your boyfriend fifteen years older than you with four dogs and five adopted kids from Southeast Asia, probably. Which honestly isn’t all that bad, just different,” Louis shrugged, grinning when Harry ran to him and began to dump all the takeout containers into an artful manner on the expensive dining platters and dishes. “Look, if you put shredded cheese on top and melt it again, it looks like you made it yourself. Now that’s what I call movie magic,” 

“Uh huh,” Harry’s smile had never been so genuine. It had taken a good couple of months to get whatever the fuck he felt for Zayn out of his system, and he was ready to face it head on when they filmed the rest of the movie. 

“We should go back to Scotland soon,” Louis commented and Harry jumped, nearly burning himself on the oven. He was looking at a picture they took in front of Edinburgh castle. “Those were really magical days.” 

“Hm,” Harry smiled as if he was remembering some powerful things. “Yeah, they really were, weren’t they?” 

“Hello!” Liam’s voice rang through, making Louis and Harry panic to throw away all of the plastic tupperware and Olive Garden bags. “Uh…anyone home? Haha,” 

“Yeah, we’re in here! Come on in,” Louis gave a shout as if it was his home. 

“Something smells confusing,” Liam’s voice got closer, “Like tomato sauce that’s super sweet but also rancid.” 

“Oh, well, uh—“ Harry fluffed his hair up and spun around, a thin sheen of sweat on his face. “Hi.” 

“Oh nice, you got Olive Garden,” Liam pointed at the breadsticks, which most obviously were from Olive Garden, no matter how beautifully Louis throws them into a six thousand dollar breadbowl. “Why’d you do all that? Just more dishes to wash.” Liam giggled when Harry came over to kiss his cheek. 

“God, I love you,” Harry sighed, pulling him into a hug. “I love you so much, Li.” 

* * *

“This is like, really good, Harry, you’ve outdone yourself.” Bowie realized how surprised he sounded and his eyes widened. 

“It’s Olive Garden, Bow, I’m not offended by your astonishment,” Harry giggled, they were all cuddled together on the couch (which has been steamrolled and dry cleaned multiple times), watching SNL. The doorbell rang and he nearly choked on a breadstick. “Oh shit, almost forgot. There are some people I want y’all to meet.” He ran to the door and opened it without a moment of hesitation. 

“Hi, Hazza Bear!” Alice and Amanda cooed at him in practiced unison, outstretching their arms and encapsulating him into a near suffocating hug. “How’re you, our little baby?” 

“I’m not your little baby, Jesus,” Harry groaned, scrunching his face up at all the kisses. “It’s nice seeing you guys again.” 

“Yeah, my Broadway show finally closed, my god, so we’re moving back to L.A in a couple of months. I ran into your sister a lot, she said you haven’t called her in a long time?” Amanda flicked his forehead. 

“Shit’s been real, I guess. Couldn’t find the time, ow, that really hurt,” Harry led them through the hallway. “Where are you guys planning to move to?”

Alice cheered when Louis came and tackled her. “We think Silverlake is just so cute—“ 

“It’ll get old in two breaths, that place is so cramped.” Louis shook his head. “The Hills are fucking annoying, West Hollywood has too many old gays, Downtown is fucking disgusting, so unfortunately you’re just gonna have to join us here in Beverly Hills.” 

“We could always move to Koreatown,” 

“And gentrify that area more? You’ll be adding more redundancy to your stereotypical hippie antics.” 

Alice huffed, “Always the realist, our Lou is. C’mere, you little bitch, let’s wrestle.” 

“This is Liam and his manager Bowie,” 

“Ooh, so this is Liam?” Amanda whistled, which was totally rude, but Liam blushed nevertheless and gave her a bear hug. “I’ve been living under a rock. Hugging you is like squeezing a steel column, how is Hazza not broken by now?” 

“Haha, very funny,” Harry drawled, patting the seats on the couch as they all settled back down. “I love this part.” 

They were five minutes into the next skit when Harry’s phone went off. The familiar ringtone made him jump in his seat and immediately scramble to find where it was. 

“Don’t,” Louis grabbed his arm. “Haz, don’t.” 

“What’s wrong?” Alice asked, trying to be quiet as Amanda slept in her lap. 

The tune was ‘Lazarus’ by David Bowie, and it was heading into the very first verse, which was when it stopped and the call failed. There was only one person who Harry set that ringtone to. 

“Haz.” Louis warned when Harry sprang up and ran to the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself in the process. 

_ Look up here, I’m—  _

“Hello?” He could see Louis shaking his head at him in the doorway before slowly turning around to head back to the living room. 

There was silence on the other end, and Harry could only hear his own labored breathing. He repeated the question. “H-Hello?” 

There was a crackle in the line before a sound finally confirmed that Harry was not in a dream. “H-hi, Harry.” 

“Zayn?” 

“Hi.” 

“Hi.” 

Another beat. A pause, a period of time long enough to start judgment day. 

“I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

Usually, no matter how much the person has wronged him, Harry’s first impulse would be to say that it was okay, but in this case he didn’t. He didn’t even really know what Zayn had to say sorry for. It took a moment before he could reply. 

“You said it was real,” Harry hated how his voice broke when it came out. 

“I know I did.” 

‘Where did you go?’

‘Why did you never call?’

‘Why did you stop coming to my house and knocking on the door ‘til I answered?’

None of these left his mouth. 

“Harry, I’m sorry,” It felt like Zayn was only apologizing because he didn’t know what else to say. 

“What are you saying sorry for? That’s a genuine question, I-I—I really wanna know,” Harry sounded more like he was about to cry than he was angry. 

“I love you.” 

“Fuck off,” Now he was crying. 

“I’m serious, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Zayn was crying too. “I just—I don’t fucking know, I don’t have an excuse.” 

“You know, like, two years ago, I met this guy in New York. He was a singer at a bar, was trying to make it as an actor and shit like that, and I loved him. That was a guy I loved, but you know, he wasn’t out, and so, everything was a secret, like I was this dirty, unimportant thing—“ 

“That’s not what you are to me—“ 

“Shut the fuck up,” The waver in his voice was too poignant for his guests in the living room to not overheat. “Shut up. I’m not done. S-So I thought I could deal with it, learned piano for him, paid for his acting classes, introduced him to every single director I worked with, and one day, one day he got an audition with Steven Spielberg and we were so happy,” 

Louis came back in at the mention of Steven Spielberg, a blanket thrown over his shoulder as he patiently waited for Harry to be done. 

“I was so happy I kissed him on the street and then he never called me ever again,” Harry let the words come out and Louis closed his eyes. “A year later he posted on his Instagram that he was getting married to his high school sweetheart and he and her were going to get married in the Hamptons. So you see, I came out so that I could stop getting into bullshit like that but it made me into some broken, weak bitch with now only one life to waste.” 

“Fuck,” Zayn couldn’t breathe, and the line made a clunking noise like he dropped his phone. “Fuck.” 

“Goodbye,” Louis finally snatched the phone out of Harry’s hand and told Zayn himself before cruelly hanging up. “Haz, c’mere.” 

“I’m okay.” 

“No you’re not,” 

“I fucking said I was okay,” Harry crumbled when Liam came up behind him and took him in for an embrace. “N-no, I’m okay. It was nothing, you guys, really, like, it was just…me catching feelings for a hot second, yeah? Got all twisted but it’s over and I’m fine.” 

Liam carried him back into the living room wrapped up in the blanket and sat him on his lap, holding him close, “I got you, don’t worry,” They all kissed his head, Amanda softly waking up to Alice petting her hair. 

“Holy shit,” Bowie came in through the hallway, eyes wide and transfixed on his phone. “Holy shit!” 

“What?” They all asked, and he turned his screen around to show them, Louis turned the TV off because it got too loud. 

And there it was, 

An Instagram post. 

For some reason, Harry read the caption first. 

_ I love you, let’s not hide anymore.  _

His eyes wandered back up to the picture,

and there it was, 

A mirror selfie of Niall and Zayn kissing in what looked to be the hospital waiting room. 

To make matters worse, the top comment that peeked out underneath the caption read like this. 

_ zayn: I’m so glad you’re okay.  _

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> leave me a comment on what you think will happen next because i s2g none of you will guess it right.  
love you, i sowwy 
> 
> there are probably a lot of mistakes and typos but i'm too busy crying so  
-j


	6. i’ll give you all the rocks in antarctica

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **I miss those nights when you would come over**  
**spent all night just tryna get closer**  
**that was June and now it's October**  
**I don't want, don't wanna get over you**  
**fuck, I’m lonely.**  
-lauv, fuck, i’m lonely

“I swear to God, Haz, just give me the word and I’ll cancel this whole thing, I’ll apologize and grovel and convince our boss to pay for all the losses—“ 

“That’s literally the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard, Lou. It’s okay, I’m a big boy now, yeah?” Harry smiled weakly at him, turning back to face the window to watch as the road wooshed by. 

Today was the first day of reconvening for filming, and if Harry thought he was going to throw up, Louis was about to explode with vomit. 

There had been no further contact from Zayn after that pissant twat phone call, so all Harry tried to do was gather his bearings and get through the last couple of scenes of this godforsaken movie. 

“Okay, but you tell me if it gets too much, okay?” Louis pulled into the parking lot, and Harry immediately spotted Liam and Marcy talking underneath one of the tents. Fabulous.

“Okay,” Harry giggled when Louis kissed the side of his head. “We’re a team.” 

“That we are.” Louis looked serious while saying it, which only made Harry laugh harder. They got out of the car and Harry made a beeline for Liam, because he was afraid he’d run into anyone else, not even looking around the set in fear that his eyes might catch something. 

Liam saw him coming, and his face contorted into that of worry. “Haz,” 

“Hi…? What’s wrong?” Harry tucked his hair behind his ear, blinking slowly. These antics had become habitual and instinctive, even though he knew Liam wasn’t attracted to him in that way. 

“Harry Harry Harry!” The director came running at him, saying his name three times beginning with a scoop. “So I wanted to talk to you about something,” 

“Hi, Mr…Billy. Hi Billy.” 

“Aw, you’re so cute,” Billy pinched his cheek. “We showed some of the high ups what we have so far and they want you to do the bed scene again.” 

“Pardon?” 

Sandra, having appeared out of fucking thin air, cut in. “The bed scene. Ebele and Eli. Sex. Bed.” 

Liam cringed behind them, smashing his face into his palm and silently shrieking. 

Harry was pale, “Oh, I mean, I-I-I—what was wrong with it?” 

Billy shrugged, “I didn’t think there was anything wrong with it, but they just want y’all to do it again.” 

“O-Oh.” 

Louis looked livid, but he was a professional. There was no way he was going to start screaming his head off at the director of all directors. 

“I can…yeah, yeah!” Harry squeaked, hair messily flopping about as he looked back and forth from Sandra and Louis. “I can do it again.” 

“Will there be a problem?” Billy asked worriedly, and Harry shook his head so fast his brain jostled about. 

“A conflict of interest, perhaps?” Sandra bluntly pointed behind them, revealing Niall on Zayn’s lap, looking madly in love and lost in their corner of their world. Liam began to slap himself again. “I’m sure Mr. Styles won’t have any issues if we get through it quickly, director.” 

“Alright alright!” Billy clapped his hands and began to walk away, his movement making Harry’s vision spin and he nearly fell down. “Gah, young people. So shy.” 

“I’m sorry, Hazza, tried to get to you first, but…” Liam looked dejected, as if he did something wrong, as if Liam could  _ ever _ do something wrong. 

“It’s okay!” Harry waved his hands at him, pulling him in for a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “You’re a gem for trying to warn me, but really, it’s okay.” 

For a slight second, Harry thought he saw Zayn looking at them, but then Liam pulled away and he blinked and Zayn was back into being transfixed on Niall’s face. 

“I know this’s been hard on you too, so, it’s okay, Li. You’re a real pal. I love you,” 

“I love you too.” Liam smiled weakly, he was trying desperately hard to ignore the fact that the guy he liked was behind him playing tonsil hockey with Zayn motherfucking Malik. 

“C’mon, we gotta get a move on!” Sandra’s voice could be so powerful sometimes and it was absolutely petrifying. “We’re gonna redo what we need to do and do it well!” 

“Yes, ma’am!” Marcy chuckled condescendingly, turning back to Harry. “Your hair is way too long to do this scene, we’ll need to give you a trim.” 

“Okay,” Harry replied way too quickly, wanting to stall for every moment he could. “Take your time.” 

“Strange, you’re usually antsy. Is it ‘cause Niall Horan jumped on that before you did?” Marcy leaned forwards to wrap him in a hairdressing bib. “Or is it because you tried it out first and were disappointed?” 

“Honestly? A little bit of both,” Harry grumbled and Marcy cooed, people did that a lot to him, coo, and he now wasn’t sure just how okay he was with it. 

Zayn was reviewing his script with a hard look on his face, as Niall nonchalantly (he didn’t think anything was wrong) went to his physical therapy session in one of the studio rooms. Liam was biting his nails, Bowie slapping his hands to make him stop doing it, and Louis was forming a dark thunderstorm all around him as he sat cross-legged in his manager’s chair, glaring in Zayn’s direction. 

“All done, you look so darling,” Marcy fluffed his hair a bit and untied the bib, patting him to get out of the chair. “Everything okay?” 

Harry lied right through his perfect teeth, “Yeah.”

“Alright, let’s see if we can get this in one take, yeah?” Billy sat in his chair as Sandra fed him water through a reusable Starbucks cup, producers watching the monitors intently and cameramen set themselves up. “Okay, action!” 

ELI pushes EBELE up against the wall. 

No, this wasn’t happening. 

Harry’s eyes squeezed shut when Zayn’s hands touched him, and he let out quick pants when he realized he had to do the same, push him up against the wall and press his head to his chest. 

“Babe,” He heard Zayn whisper, because it didn’t matter if the camera picked it up because this part was supposed to be overlayed with sound effects anyways. “Babe?” 

“Don’t call me babe,” Harry hissed through his teeth, facing away from the camera and right into Zayn’s ear. “Stop.” 

Zayn looked broken, like positively broken, and nothing could make Harry angrier. He shoved Zayn onto the bed and got to work, knowing that the next few seconds would be raw sound. 

He let Zayn flip him over and rip his shirt off, plant kisses down his spine as he pulled his pants off too, let himself be flipped over again and crawled on top of like he was about to be devoured. 

Sex sells, doesn’t it? 

It was when Zayn finally smashed his lips against Harry’s that something inside him snapped, and a tear escaped the side of his face. It seemed Zayn noticed and tried to pull away, but there was no way Harry was going to do this goddamn scene again, so he yanked Zayn’s head down and forced his lips onto his. 

He was sobbing, and it was haunting how he just couldn’t stop crying. It felt so fucking good to have Zayn’s hands on his body again, as though they were in that bathtub overlooking the countryside, the water hot and their skin cold where it didn’t touch it, Zayn’s lips on his neck and whispering sweet nothing’s into his ears like he was his. 

It was ironic that it wasn’t real. 

Harry played his part and let Eli shove his face down into the mattress, panted and moaned when he was supposed to, yelped when Zayn pinched his thigh just like they had practiced all those weeks ago. 

It was worse when he opened his eyes again and the camera was right in his face, and behind it was a sea of people all looking differently at him. Even Niall was watching, but of course, it was more like he was just studying the scene before him, he obviously had no idea Zayn and Harry had…something before he came along. 

Harry wanted to throw up when Zayn wiped his tears away as an ad lib, his lips were soft, his touch was firm, and it all felt so mechanic and wrong. 

But maybe this was his last chance to ever feel like this again, you know? Where he hurt so bad but didn’t ever have to confront someone verbally again, had the opportunity to say goodbye with his body, the glint in his eye, say the lines ‘I love you’ and no one would ever know he meant it. 

_ Edinburgh _ . He told himself as he pulled Zayn back down, and it was desperate and turning rampant with fervor.  _ It only took me one day to fall in love with you.  _

_ You like oreos and peanut butter? Me too.  _

He felt Zayn fake grind against him, so he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, lengthened his spine towards the camera and let his jaw drop. 

_ They say I am talented, but I like whiskey too much to add memory as one of my talents.  _

Zayn kissed his neck. 

_ My mother feeds on the irony of appearing as a 50’s housewife when she is the sole breadwinner.  _

_ My sister is on Broadway. We were starring in the same musical when we were 12 and that’s when I was scouted for Cheyenne.  _

He kissed Zayn back. 

_ I realized I was gay when— _

“Eb, I love you,” Eli panted, but Harry knew that that wasn’t in the script, that that was an ad lib, and Niall was right there and so was Louis and Liam and Marcy and Sandra and everyone he’d ever worked so hard to have respect for him. 

_ In Edinburgh, he told me he had a daughter and that he was scared of freedom.  _

_ Maybe he didn’t say that last part, but that’s what I learned from him. _

_ Two years later in New York, I met a man who looked exactly like this one, I told him stories and sang him songs and learned the fucking piano, helped him with every opportunity, loved him as hard as I could because I always felt like my love was never enough. I hate being right.  _

“I love you,” Ebele said back to Eli, and Eli’s tears fell onto Ebele’s face. “I don’t think I should.” 

“I don’t think you should either,” Eli pressed their foreheads together. 

Ebele smiled with his eyes closed. “It’s okay, I can keep it a secret.” 

_ We’ve known of each other for almost four years, isn’t that strange? How did I end up in a world where it can make complete sense to fall so hard for someone you’ve met in person for only a few hours, or do these months count too? Hey God, won’t you validate me.  _

Harry was turned over again, and he felt Zayn’s forehead pressed against his back in between his shoulder blades. This moment was almost over. 

_ God, maybe I’m still a virgin because I’m the one who’s afraid of freedom.  _

Out of the camera’s sight, Harry felt Zayn intertwine their hands. 

_ Hey Zayn, do you think this is all I am after all? I’m really asking here. Honestly, if we’re sticking to that gay cat metaphor, I’m starting to think that maybe this wasn’t worth it.  _

“Cut.” 

* * *

“Final day of filming, we made it, Haz.” Louis looked depleted, just absolutely depleted. “Eight months and four days, but we’re here. We’ve made it. Barely.” 

Harry was uncharacteristically chipper. “We made it, Lou! Take a cookie, I made coffee.” 

“Cordusios are disgusting, Harry,” Louis cringed, but downed the drink anyways, munching angrily at the chocolate chip cookies Harry spent all night making copious amounts of dough for. “These are good, you could sell these.” 

Harry chuckled, throwing the very last tray into the oven. “Maybe in my next life I’ll be a baker.” 

Louis snorted, “It fits you, to be honest. Did you look over the script?” 

“Yeah,” 

“Kind of a fucked up ending, don’t you think?” 

Harry shrugged, “My job ain’t to complain about the art, it’s to make it convincing. But yeah, really really fucked up.” 

“It’s almost as if this movie is modeled after you and Zayn motherfucking Malik, hm?” Louis shook his head, looking absolutely disgusted as he re-read the last page of the movie script. 

“Oh, you stop with those jokes, Lou. He isn’t even on set anymore, they finished filming all his scenes last week,” Harry sat down next to him. “I love you, Lou.” 

“Tell that to your boyfriend,” Louis waggled his eyebrows as the door unlocked and Liam came in, looking sweaty and unkempt. 

“For the love of God, we’re not boyfriends,” both Harry and Liam shouted in unison, Louis just threw his hands up in the air, grabbed his keys and stuffed another cookie in his mouth. “We’ll be down in ten minutes.” 

“You ready for today?” Liam asked, taking a cookie and shoving the whole thing down his throat. “Imma shower, be just a minute.” 

“You remember how to turn on the faucet, right?” 

“I’ll figure it out.” 

  
  


INT. A dark parking lot. The culmination of the events of Act Three. 

EBELE runs through as the lights flicker and the lights of the city behind him glimmer into glares of rainbow dots speckled across the sky. 

A car chases him, one with particularly great acceleration capabilities and DONAL is in the driver’s seat, looking concentrated and livid. 

EBELE tries to reach the stairs, but DONAL blocks him off with a sharp turn and EBELE falls to the ground. 

DONAL gets out of the car as EBELE tries to run in the other direction. 

DONAL 

Ebele Matthew Harris. 

There is silence as EBELE hides behind one of the columns that lay under a killed light. 

Suddenly, EBELE turns and DONAL’s hand shoots up at his neck. 

DONAL 

The little whore. 

EBELE is thrown to the ground. 

DONAL 

I wanna make this clear that this isn’t because of any hard feelings. I was instructed to call you a whore as I… 

He slams EBELE down again when he tries to run. 

DONAL 

Don’t make this harder on yourself. 

EBELE 

I didn’t make your friend shoot himself. 

DONAL 

Yes, yes you did. 

EBELE 

No! 

DONAL kicks EBELE in the head, and with a gloved hand he steadies him to see if he could still talk. 

He can. 

EBELE 

I didn’t pull the fucking trigger, you cunt. 

DONAL 

We were doing okay until you came along. 

EBELE 

That makes no sense. You kill for a living. 

DONAL 

A literal living. I’m funny, huh? I used to be real funny, like you fuckface, but I grew up and I realized that the world isn’t run by man, it’s run by demons that make sure man doesn’t get out of place. 

EBELE 

Who wanted me dead?

DONAL laughs. 

DONAL 

That’s all you want to know? You don’t want to find out what I’m gonna do with your stolen cargo once I find him? 

EBELE spits in his face. 

EBELE 

Leave him alone. 

DONAL calmly wipes his face with his glove and throws it to the side as he slams EBELE down again. 

DONAL 

I guess you don’t want to know. That’s fine with me. I’ll just tell you that there’s no one here to save you now. 

EBELE 

That’s… 

DONAL 

Oh come on, you didn’t actually come looking for me expecting for Eli to sniff out your trail and come rescue you in the last second. Just be a good little bitch and die already so that I can focus go back to caring about actual shit.

DONAL wraps EBELE into an embrace, which confuses him, until a knife is unsheathed out of his jacket pocket and EBELE is stabbed with it. 

EBELE screams, flailing for a moment before going still, trembling in DONAL’s arms. 

DONAL 

You sure are pretty. 

EBELE can’t speak. 

DONAL 

Finally, he shuts the fuck up. 

DONAL lets go and wipes the knife with his other glove, picking up the thrown one on his way back to the car, leaving EBELE on the parking lot floor. 

When the car speeds out, there is a moment as EBELE lies pathetically on the floor, staring up at the ceiling as blood pools in his stomach and up his esophagus. 

WOMAN had witnessed the whole thing and already notified the police, running out of her hiding place to EBELE, falling to her knees and immediately shoving her flannel onto the wound. 

WOMAN 

Oh my god, oh god oh god oh god—

WOMAN (panicked and crying) 

Sweetheart, can you hear me? Shit, fuck— 

WOMAN holds EBELE into the crook of her arms as she phones the police again with the other, screaming at them to hurry up over and over again and multiple operators have to assure her that they are on their way. 

WOMAN drops the phone and holds EBELE to her chest. 

WOMAN 

Jesus, you’re a kid. A goddamn kid. 

WOMAN tucks EBELE’s hair behind his ear and sobs, even though she has no idea who he is or what’s happening. She continues to add ample

pressure to the wound and whispers to EBELE…more for herself. 

WOMAN 

Keep blinking, sweetie, it’s okay. It’s okay. 

EBELE 

Mom? 

A beat. 

WOMAN 

No, no honey—I mean, yeah. Yeah, I can be your mom. Yeah honey, it’s okay. 

EBELE’s lips are going blue and the shock has made his pupils blow out. 

WOMAN 

Sweetheart, a few more minutes, okay? They—they can help you in a few more minutes, sweetie, c’mon, keep your eyes open. You’ve got such pretty ones. 

EBELE (strained and broken)

My mom used to say that to me.

WOMAN (quickly wipes her tears)

Jesus fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. 

Another beat. 

You’re going to be just fine. 

EBELE 

Yeah. 

WOMAN (laughs in disbelief)

Why are  _ you _ comforting  _ me _ ? 

EBELE doesn’t respond, he can’t. 

WOMAN presses harder and holds him close. 

WOMAN 

Your hair is so soft, god. A kid, a goddamn kid. Just who would do this to you? 

The sound of sirens pierce through the scene, blue and red lights flashing about on the characters. 

WOMAN looks up, and the scene goes completely silent, not muffled, not white noise, completely silent as police officers and paramedics rush towards them. 

CUTS TO BLACK. 

INT. A private hospital ICU room, specifically designed for trauma patients. 

WOMAN is sitting by EBELE’s side, her clothes still bloodied, her hair a mess, hands shaking as she stares blankly at the young man before him. 

A NURSE comes into the room and talks to her silently, WOMAN nods after a moment and follows her out. 

EBELE’s eyes slowly flutter open, and although he cannot talk or move his head, he looks wildly around his surroundings and his eyes close again. 

He is dying. That should be clear; hooked up one multiple monitors and body looking three times smaller than everything that’s keeping him alive. 

He is waiting for ELI, who he assumes should know how to find him. 

Camera pans slowly to the door of the hospital room to a man peering in through the window. It’s ELI, but he only looks and stares emotionlessly, doesn’t move an inch to walk in or even let his head fall. 

EBELE lies in the hospital room, and wordlessly thinks about what Heaven might be like. It’s flashes of white memories, coffees, holding hands with ELI, stupid school pranks, his mother loving ELI as her own. 

ELI doesn’t walk in. The next person that comes into the room is another WOMAN with KIDS, and it should be obvious that this is the famed ANNIE and her CHILDREN. They sit, ANNIE keeps it together, EBELE’s health fails. 

ELI doesn’t ever walk in.

fin. 

  
  


“Cut.” 

The audience of people explode in applause, like it’s the Oscars or the Emmys, and Harry instinctively ripped off the oxygen mask strapped to his face and shimmied out of all the gadgets, breathing heavily. “Woah.” 

“That’s my baby,” Louis yells from behind the camera, and people laugh. “That’s my best friend!” 

“That’s my manager,” Harry laughed, feeling drained from the emotional faucet he had to run for the last eight hours. “Love you too, Lou.” 

Louis is all smiles when he comes towards him, kissing his forehead repeatedly. “I’ve never been prouder of you.” 

Harry gushed, “Aw, shucks.” 

“You’re amazing,” Liam came over and kissed him on the cheek, wrapping him up in a warm hug. “I’m proud to call you my friend.” 

Hearing it made it real, Harry decided, softly rubbing Liam’s back as Louis wrapped his arms around his middle from behind. There was some commotion behind them as the crew began to sweep the set away, and when the three of them stepped off and turned back around, the reality that this chapter of their lives was over hit with full force. 

“Lou, I think maybe I want to take a break for a little while,” Harry suggested as they walked back into the parking lot for the final time. “Not retire, but I want a couple years to just be who I’m supposed’ta be, you know?” 

Louis smiled at him warmly, “I think that’s a great idea. A break after over 16 years of playing a part, hm? I can see the headlines now: “Broadway to Hollywood, Harry Styles makes his debut in rediscovering his humanity.” 

“That makes me sound like a sociopath, Lou.” Harry laughed while shaking his head, mind getting lost in the rush of the freeway signs and road. 

Louis looked over when they got stuck in traffic, and although they had been friends for most of their lives, for some reason, he decided Harry looked changed today. “I wouldn’t let anyone hurt you, Haz, you know that, right?” 

“Of course, babe,” Harry said, the endearment slipping out like it had never done before. “Huh, didn’t think I’d be one of those people to say that so casually.” 

“It’s nice and mothering, I’d say. What are you going to do on your hiatus?” Louis turned into the highway exit, blinking a few times and getting in a yawn at the red stoplight. 

“I know it sounds cliche, but I wanna find love,” Harry groaned at his own words. “No models or athletes or actors, there’s gotta be a regular guy out there who…” 

“...wouldn’t do you dirty.” Louis finished, and Harry smirked at him. “What’re you looking at me for?” 

“I think you should find someone, Lou. We’ve gotta have friends that would set you up.” Harry leaned his head against the headrest as he comically watched Louis tense. 

“Bah, love is overrated.” 

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Love is the most human thing you could ever experience.”

“That’s not true. Penguins are monogamous and give each other rocks.” 

* * *

Harry spent the next five months pushing the very edges of his freedom.

He kissed a woman at a gala, stirring up lots of trouble after proclaiming how he liked it, the woman being Amanda also joking about how she also liked how she turned Harry Styles straight. There was a flurry of backlash, a tornado of hate and opposition, and Harry had never felt so good about offending a whole bunch of people and being validated for it. 

‘issa joke, y’all. manda and i are friends, chill.’ 

The Harry he was two months ago would’ve never dreamed of releasing a scandal like that, as well as a tweet without any proper grammar or punctuation or context in sight. It was truly a thing to relish, this freedom, hugging paparazzi, going out to clubs almost every night, and singing loudly in the shower. 

Sometimes he would get louder under his rain bath just to see if he could wake up God upstairs, then stop mid-laughter when a memory of Zayn screaming at the ceiling popped into his head. 

Zayn. Zayn Zayn Zayn. 

Louis and Liam started dating, which came as no surprise to everyone around them, considering how Liam would rush over to Harry’s house the second he found out Louis was over, how they’d text each other purple and orange hearts and conspicuously cuddle while the three of them would watch a movie. 

Movie. Movie movie movie. 

Harry met a guy. Several guys, actually, all with big eyes and long eyelashes, taller than him and heavy watches on their wrists. They groped him in public (with his consent), took him on cruises, cuddled and respected how he wanted to stay a virgin. One guy in particular, his doorman Benji, Harry thought he could’ve loved. It was priceless, how in less than a year a man he considered to be a kid grow so handsome and mature, Harry decided upon their first date that he liked the way their hands fit when clasped together. They fed each other ice cream and he took Harry to cat cafes, went on hikes and posted cute pictures of themselves on Instagram. Harry made Benji try his favorite whiskey and sucked him off while The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel played in the background, Rachel Brosnahan being witty and brilliant all up in their ears. 

Whiskey. Whiskey whiskey—Harry threw it all out once he and Benji split. The latter had been accepted to a prestigious fellowship in some far off country, and Harry knew that he could never equate to all the things Benji wanted to reach. Although he was famous, wealthy, and talented, Harry knew his limits to be finite and easily drawn a line with a stick in the sand. 

So he got himself a sugar daddy, platonic and sweet, they would meet every two weeks at his house in the Hills and drink tea, try biscuits, play the piano together. His “daddy,” Michael, used to be a piano teacher and jazz musician, so on very languid and hot days Harry would lean against the wall looking pretty while Michael would sing to him, and maybe, just maybe, Harry thought that life would’ve been so much sweeter if there had been some colorful music to it.

Michael was beautiful and kind, kissed Harry gently in public and held his hand while sailing down on his boat, made the best Sex on the Beaches and owned a beach as well. 

Sex on the Beach. Sex on the—Sex on the beach. 

Life was so hot, Harry decided. The way it blanketed him every waking moment of his days and didn’t let go until he was sweating, laying on his side while watching illegal bootleg videos of his own Broadway performances back when he was twelve and oh so peculiar, frizzy-haired and blessed with the voice of an angel. It seemed like the world was baking him with each and every new person he let in, knocked the wind out of his lungs when they picked him up and promised him that they were one day going to let go. 

So now they were here, on some snowy ass mountain, with Liam teaching Louis how to snowboard and Harry shivering on the sidelines, wondering why he ever let them drag him here. 

“Fuck, I can’t do this. Baby, ngh!” Louis screeched, gripping onto Liam’s hair so tightly it looked more painful than the prospect of falling in the snow and breaking something. 

“You sound absolutely obscene, Lou,” Harry chirped, trembling in the snow. “There are children present.” 

“Shut the fuck up, Haz!” Louis screamed, igniting a fierce ‘shhhh’ from Liam, who grabbed onto his waist and hugged him closely. 

“It’s gonna be okay, babe, just try and…get on the board, yeah?” 

Harry couldn’t help but snort. Yes, he was definitely just as much of a pussy as Louis was, but he was glad that he wasn’t being mortally humiliated by himself. A young pro boarder wooshed by them, who couldn’t have been more than fifteen years old, and Louis went silent before exploding and running off. 

“Lou!” Liam called out, giving Harry a look to stay with the boards as he chased after him. “Baby, it’s okay!” 

“Ridiculous.” Harry groaned, his ass was getting frozen and he completely forgot to take another scarf with him to this godforsaken Big Bear Mountain area. 

He grumbled to himself for a few more minutes, trying to keep as still as possible when a loud shout made him tip over and fall on his side. “Uuuuhh-ah!” 

“Ahhh!” A person screamed as their board came rushing at him, and as Harry braced for impact (there was no way he could run), the person at the very last second swerved and crashed a foot away from him, in front of him, making a grand plopping noise onto the snow. 

When Harry finally cracked an eye open, a huge sigh of relief washed over him that he wasn’t dead. Then, as the other eye opened, he jolted with a startled gasp and crawled over to the person still face planted into the snow. 

“Holy…smokes, sweetie, are you okay?” Harry unclicked their feet off of the board and pulled the kid into his arms, “You okay, love?” 

Before he could brush the snow off their face and get a good look, another voice came rushing at them and Harry shut his eyes again. “Oh god, Earl, are you okay?” 

Earl? 

He opened his eyes again and a stunning woman was running at him with her arms outstretched, definitely properly dressed and looked to be a professional. “Earl!” 

“Earl?” Harry asked, looking back down at the kid. 

“I’m okay, mommy,” The little girl mumbled, rubbing at her own face. “I’m okay.” 

“Aw, you were so brave, sweetie—thank you,” Mom picked her child up and held her to her chest. “Your face is cold,” She giggled, kissing her cheeks repeatedly. She turned to Harry, “Thank you again, dunno what I’d have done if she went any farther.” 

“N-No problem,” Harry said to the gorgeous lady, stuttering and blinking rapidly. 

“What can I do to repay—oh, I know.” She looked him up and down before outstretching a hand. “Hi, my name’s Whitney. This is my daughter Earl.” She gave a beautiful chuckle when he took her hand and limply let her flail it back and forth. “We should get you into some proper clothes and a hot drink, your lips are blue.” 

“Th-thank you,” Harry couldn’t even talk, especially when Whitney yanked him up with one arm and brushed the snow off of his head. “You’re very strong.” 

“Nah, you just weigh very little,” Whitney beautifully cooed when Earl nuzzled her face into her neck. “Let’s go back home and get this nice man some hot cocoa, yeah, baby?” 

“Yeah,” Earl mumbled, wrapping her arms tighter around her mom’s neck. Whitney bent down and picked up both boards with one hand, motioning for Harry to come follow. For a split second he wondered if Liam and Louis would wonder where he went, but then resolved on the definite possibility that they were fucking somewhere in the woods. 

There were many cabins at this mountain resort, and as Harry followed Whitney and her daughter through the quiet rows of wooden houses, chimneys smoking and the air biting through their faces. Whitney had long pale blonde hair tied up in a low bun with braids running through it, and it hit Harry that she really did look like a real life Elsa, except immensely strong and a lot taller than Harry would’ve ever thought a woman could be. But perhaps that’s sexist. He didn’t know at this point. 

Earl popped her head up and looked at him past her mother’s shoulder, and while her mother was pale and blond, Earl wasn’t as much, and had large hazel eyes and brown hair running in ringlets all down her face. “You look funny.” 

“Earl, that’s rude,” Whitney shushed without even a beat, and Earl shook her head. 

“I think I saw him somewhere, mama,” Earl tried to comment as Harry instantly remembered that he was on a famous show for like, 6 or 8 years and its re-runs plague the channels notoriously. 

Whitney made a left and tutted, “Perhaps you hit your head, sweetie,” She then addressed Harry, “It’s the one on the top of the hill.” 

“O-Okay, cool—cool.” Harry slapped his forehead. 

They got up to the cabin, which was frankly, larger than any of the other cabins on the street, and Harry tried to steady his heavy breathing while Whitney knocked on the door. 

“Daddy!” Earl shrieked at the door and Whitney laughed, giving Harry a look of apology at the noise. 

The door swung open after a few seconds, and when Harry looked up, it was clear that this moment would either be marked as the day he went to Heaven or his worst nightmare becoming a reality. 

“Zayn.” 

Earl shimmied down and latched onto the man’s leg, shrieking, “Daddy, I fell down the mountain today!” 

“And nearly broke her legs,” Whitney ignored what Harry said and pushed him into the cabin gently, nearly running him into the man, who was also frozen in the doorway. “Zayn, what’s wrong?” 

“You—“ Zayn looked back and forth from Earl, Whitney, and Harry, so it was unclear who he was addressing, “You fell down the mountain?” Earl, apparently. 

“Yeah! It was awesome, I couldn’t feel my face for like, ten minutes!” Earl squealed when Zayn tugged her upwards into his arms. 

Harry thought he might faint from how much the world was spinning, walking into the stunning living room of the stunning couple and their stunning child. 

“I’m just gonna warm up some drinks while you two talk about why y’all had those looks on your faces when the door opened,” Whitney took her cue to snatch Earl from her arms and whisked away towards a hallway. 

“Hi.” 

Harry’s face drained of all its blood and his knees went weak, that voice, those french doors right in front of him overlooking their verandah and the mountains. 

“It kinda looks like Scotland, huh?” The voice was coming closer up behind him, and Harry thought this must be some sick dream with how Zayn just read his mind right then and there. “If I’m being honest that’s why I chose this one, Earl liked it too.” 

“Earl…it’s short for Erlyis, isn’t it?” Harry whispered so softly he couldn’t even hear himself. 

“I…I didn’t know you liked snowboarding,” He heard Zayn stuff his hands in his pockets behind him. 

Harry couldn’t bear to turn around, but when he felt Zayn’s hand ghosting over his, he knew he didn’t have a choice. So he spun around and nearly bonked his head against Zayn’s, topping it off with the fact that Harry was going to fall within a matter of seconds. “I don’t, Liam and Louis dragged me.” 

Zayn was so beautiful, it just wasn’t fair. His face kind of lowered when Liam was mentioned, and he automatically pulled his hand back and rubbed the back of his head. “Right right, Liam.” 

Harry shook his head, “Liam and Louis are together. I uh, don’t want you to get the wrong idea.” 

Zayn scoffed, “Me? Wrong idea? Never.” He laughed a little, and so did Harry. “Uh…how are you?” 

“I’m hanging on,” Harry answered a bit too truthfully, resulting in a visible cringe. “I-I mean, I’m doing okay.” 

“I’ve been hanging on too,” Zayn smiled at him warmly just a Whitney came back with two mugs, Earl with her own in tow. “Thanks, Whit.” 

“No problem. I’m gonna take Earl back out in a few minutes, so don’t mind us.” Whitney smiled a beautifully white smile at Harry, who blushed as a response. Earl pulled Zayn down for a kiss on the head and nodded nonchalantly, sipping her cocoa and running after her mother like a duckling. 

“She’s gorgeous. Both of them are. You’re a really lucky guy.” Harry couldn’t help but say it with a dip in his voice. 

Zayn turned around and shook his head at him, “How many times do I gotta tell you this, Harry Styles?” He sat on one of the couches and patted the seat next to his. “You should stop drinking, it really fogs your memory.” 

“You had to tell me twice you had a daughter,” Harry agreed, sitting down quite far from Zayn stiffly. 

“Yeah, and that first time I told you that her mom and I are just friends. Still gay.” Zayn pointed to himself. 

Now it was Harry’s turn to let his face drop. “Right. How—how are you and Niall doing?” 

Zayn looked at him funny, but then looked away with a small smile on his face. “Babe, Niall and I never dated.” 

Harry blinked blankly at him before looking away as well to let his face meander through different expressions on how exactly he was supposed to be feeling based on this information. His throat beat his brain to it, “Then…why?” 

Zayn knew what he was referring to, and scooched closer, scaring the hell out of Harry and he nearly fell onto the floor. “Woah woah, you okay?” 

“What’re you doing?” 

“Nothi—what’re you doing, how’d you find me?” 

“I didn’t find you, I picked up your kid when she fell and now here I am.” 

Zayn gave him that same funny look before shrugging, “That makes sense. Gosh, sorry. Didn’t think.” 

Harry wanted to scoff for the sake of its irony but he had to physically prevent himself from looking like a total asshole. “What do you mean you and Niall never dated?” 

“It was never supposed to happen, that’s what I meant,” Zayn looked like he had so much self-pity for himself, and Harry hated it. 

“You told me you loved me. That’s pretty fucked up.” 

“I know, but it was the truth.” 

“Why’d you do that?” 

Zayn looked right in Harry’s eyes as he came closer so that he wouldn't startle him this time. “Well, I wanted to come out.” 

Harry’s nostrils flared but when he tried to stand up to leave, Zayn only sighed and grabbed his arm and pulled him back down. “Babe, please don’t leave.” 

“Don’t call people you’re just gonna fuck around with ‘babe.’” Harry snapped, feeling like he was going to cry. 

Zayn’s hand wandered up to the side of his face. “It only happened because I accidentally told Niall that I was gay and it just…gave off this giant dominoes effect where it ended up being me and him ‘dating’ for like two weeks just so he could come out with being bi and me as gay and for some reason I thought it was better like that because then no matter what there’d be no way for me to drag you down.” 

Harry’s face relaxed, “Why would you have dragged me down?” 

Zayn quipped, “You’re not like the rest of us, Harry, you’re special. You’re…just too pure, innit? That’s it, yeah.” 

Harry laughed, making Zayn’s face contort into surprise, “Have you not been seeing what I’ve been up to lately?” 

Zayn shook his head, “Been a house dad since the shoot ended, reception’s spotty up here.” 

“Oh, well,” Harry scratched his head, “I’ve been kind of a slut.” 

Zayn’s eyes bugged out of his head, “Wait,  _ what _ ?” 

“These last five months I’ve dated three men, had one sugar daddy, created a sex scandal about me and a woman, and cursed on Twitter, like, six times.” 

“Holy shit. So, so you’re not a virgin anymore?” 

“Nah, I’m still a virgin. How many times do I have to repeat that to you, Zayn Malik?” 

Zayn laughed heartily, and it was music to Harry’s ears, “I admit, you did have to say it to me twice.” 

“Maybe you should stop drinking, your memory goes off too.” Harry’s breath hitched when Zayn shifted and his cologne wafted in the air towards him. “Fuck,” he whispered silently, even turning away so that Zayn wouldn’t hear, but he did. 

“It’s the YSL one you like,” Zayn piped up, and Harry went red, desperately trying to look at anything else in the house. “And I got Whitney a Banksy over there, yours was so cool, you know?” 

Harry noticed something on the wall that made him laugh, “Your wall sconces are gorgeous.” 

They both chortled, giggling to each other through their teeth. The air smelled good, homey, earthy, and well-to-do, Whitney and Erlyis had already left and now it was just him and Zayn sitting in their mountain cabin living room.

“Harry, I think I…” 

“Yeah?” 

“I think I really meant it when I said I loved you, and I think I still do.” 

“Oh. But we just met.” 

They laughed again. Harry continued, “...Again and again and again, this feels like our fifth time meeting again for the first time, does that make sense?” 

Zayn nodded, “You explained it perfectly.” 

Harry bit his lip, “I just don’t think that I can,” 

“Yeah?” Zayn asked, and now he was so close Harry could practically feel the breeze that his eyelashes made when they fluttered. It made Harry fall apart, every time he did that, and when Zayn leaned even closer to press his lips onto his, he figured he might cry right then and there. 

“No no no, please don’t cry, babe, you—“ Zayn choked up, holding Harry’s face and the warmth of their bodies making each other tingle. “You cried last time and—“ 

“You’re such a prick, you know that?” Harry sobbed, whimpering when Zayn kissed him again because he had no idea what to do. “What am I gonna do? I can’t run from you, and you’re just gonna get my hopes up again.” 

Zayn shook his head wildly, “No, I—“ 

“Zayn,” Harry felt feverish, all of his inhibitions had been lowered as Zayn grasped his waist and their foreheads knocked together. “I feel really hot.” 

“Your hands are cold but your face is hot,” Zayn tutted, making Harry pout. “Shit, is this all you wore outside? Oh god, you’re dumb—“ He rushed to pull the blanket off of the couch and wrap it around Harry, shaking his head as he ripped off the thin windbreaker on top of his jacket. “You have a fever, let’s go.” 

“My cocoa,” 

“It’s cold now, babe, you’ve been teasing me while we’ve been sitting here for that long.” Zayn picked Harry up into his arms, shuffling out of the living room. “Let’s get you out of these clothes?” 

“Outta my clothes?” Harry asked with a little too much eagerness, making Zayn shake his head again. 

“Gosh, to get you in some warmer clothes, you little shit,” Zayn kicked the bedroom door open, dropping Harry onto the bed. “Jesus, you’re so skinny, these’ll just fall right off you.” 

“Zayn?” Harry whispered, head pounding against the silk sheets and fingers rhythmically thumping against the blanket. “Why are you doing this?” 

“What do you mean?” Zayn came over with a large long-sleeved shirt and some sweats, turning away when Harry went to change himself and only coming back once he shouted he was done. 

Harry dejectedly moaned, curling up into a ball and holding his throbbing forehead, “This is so wrong. I shouldn’t be here, playing these games.” 

“I shouldn’t either, Harry,” Zayn came onto the bed and pulled Harry into his arms, pressing his forehead into his chest and placing one hand on his back. “But honestly, I won’t care if you won’t.” 

“Remember when I asked you all that shit about whether or not if this was real?” Harry laughed deliriously, clearly dehydrated and sick from the many hours of shivering in the cold. “I realized that I think I fall in love too easily.” 

“I wanna hear about this illustrious sugar daddy, but firstly, why can’t it be considered real, Styles?” Zayn asked, twirling a lock of Harry’s hair around his fingers. “What wasn’t real about it?” 

“It felt like our little fling was just a scene from a movie, we’re just being paid to like each other when we actually don’t. I feel like a lot of my life has felt that way, you know? That’s why I don’t have a lotta friends, I guess I just tend to push myself away from everybody.” 

Zayn was about to speak, but Harry cut him off again. 

“Can we be friends after this, Malik? Can we start fresh, without all the existential nonsense with the studio and the cameras and the lights?” 

“I’d…I’d like that. But ya gotta convince me, hm? You tell me everything about yourself, right here, right now until you fall asleep.” Zayn sighed plaintively, cuddling closer to his  _ friend _ . “I want to know every little thing about you.” 

“Well, fuck. Only if you give me the same privilege.” Harry joked, looking up at Zayn like he was a god. This whole situation just wasn’t fair. 

“But of course, your majesty.” 

“Stop that. I’m gonna fall in love with you all over again.” 

Zayn chuckled, trying not to show the immense disdain and pain in his face. “Yes, your grace.” 

_ Just what is our dynamic, Harry?  _

_ I just know it somewhere that we gotta explore this, feeling all these things when I touch you or talk to you, it just isn’t natural. _

_ You wash down milk after peanut butter and oreos, having a dry mouth when downing whiskey and make it all seem like you are just some kind of open book. I’ve always been the type of guy who liked mysteries, so never did I think I’d be here, holding you, letting you ramble on about all the men that you had to leave in the dust. You’re a fucking Agatha Christie novel, Harry Styles, you allude me in all the ways that God can allude one of his children.  _

_ I know I’m not the brightest, but shit, if you let me, I’d take care of you, I swear. I’m out, I’m prideful, and I’m desperately in love with you.  _

_ Desperately.  _

_ The last time I called you, all that was going on in my head was that if coming out to a world that hated me from the start is the price I have to pay to go to Heaven with you, I’d give every last cent.  _

_ Shit, if I look at you just right, it feels like we’re already there.  _

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> smut next chapter! haha


	7. thanks for that kink, by the way

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **And that's because I wanna be your favorite boy**  
**I wanna be the one that makes your day**  
**The one you think about as you lie awake**  
**I can't wait to be your number one**  
**I'll be your biggest fan and you'll be mine**  
**But I still wanna break your heart and make you cry**  
**But won't you wait**  
**You know it's too late**  
**I'm on my own shit now**  
**Let me tell you how it feels to be fucking great**  
-rex orange county, best friend

Harry woke himself up with his coughing, hacking violently on his side. “Ah, fuck.” 

“You okay, babe?” Zayn’s voice was gruff and delicious, but Harry had not remembered that he was in Zayn Malik’s home and in his bed until that very second, resulting in a shriek and tumbling off the side of the mattress. “Oh, shit.” 

Harry hacked some more, feeling absolutely disgusting, jumping when Zayn plopped down to help him back up. “Fuck, I need to—oh fuck I need to call Louis, shit, shit—“ Harry patted his body as if he didn’t remember that Zayn made him change. 

“Hey, it’s okay, I think I saw your phone in the living room earlier. Shit, how long were we asleep?” Zayn rubbed his head, blinking in Harry’s direction until he could open both eyes fully. “How do you feel?” 

“Not great,” Harry admitted, looking pale and dazed, frantically picking his clothes up and shaking them. “Za—Zayn?” 

“Hazza, listen, just lay back down, okay? You’re not going to do yourself any good by running around like that,” Zayn came up and tried really hard not to notice how Harry just melted into his arms, it was suddenly as though he was holding all the talent, beauty, and wittiness in the world. His skin burned underneath his hands and he could nearly feel his own blood throbbing where their bodies met. “C’mon, babe.” 

“I should’ve just bought a coat at the gift shop,” Harry groaned, pressing the side of his face to Zayn’s bicep. “I’m sorry for bothering you like this.” 

“You aren’t bothering me at all, babe,” The corners of Zayn’s lips lifted as Harry blinked slowly at him, instinctually petting his hair back from his face. “Fuck.” 

Harry keened into Zayn’s touch, and neither was sure whether or not this situation was real. “Thank you, by the way.” 

“Don’t mention it. Ever. Just come over again. When do you leave?” Zayn asked, not caring about how desperate he sounded. 

“After this, my babysitters will probably drag me back to the city,” Harry chuckled, cringing in pain. “My head’s killing me.” 

“Harry, can I kiss you?” 

Harry looked irresolute, but nodded. “Please do.” 

“I’m sorry I’m such a dumbass.” 

“You’re sorry? I’m sorry, Zayn. I’m the dumbass between the two of us.” Harry’s eyes fluttered shut when Zayn leaned forward, but then a gasp and a shove stopped his pursuit. “I’m sick! I’m going to get you sick!” 

Zayn kissed him anyways, only stopping when he had Harry whimpering and panting against his mouth. “Don’t worry babe, I don’t get sick.” 

“You’re so,” Harry pressed his face into Zayn’s neck. “We can’t be friends anymore.” 

Zayn laughed, picking Harry up and setting him down on the bed. “Go back to sleep, I’m going to find your phone.” 

“Zayn?” Harry asked, holding onto Zayn’s shirt. Was this another one of his seductive tricks? 

“Yes, bitch?” Zayn drawled, making Harry howl in laughter. “Glad that was fun for you, idiot.” 

“Hey now, we can only call each other idiots if it’s evened out, mister,” Harry poked him. “It was really nice seeing you again.” 

“You’ve no idea.” Zayn pushed Harry down onto the bed and covered him with the duvet, gently caressing his face as if he was still trying to feign a platonic relationship. 

Harry pouted at him, snuggling deeper into the bed. “I like it when you’re running around being crazy,” he yawned. “When you’re going on about random things and showing me weird art pieces and telling me stories about your sick dreams.” 

“Well, that’s good to know.” Zayn chuckled, petting Harry’s hair. “I unfortunately mature to a certain degree when I see my daughter.” 

“She’s cute,” Harry smiled. 

“Of course she is, she’s the female me.” 

Harry snorted, “Okay, woah there, you’re way too confident even though you’re right.” 

“How long are you staying in Big Bear,” Zayn asked, “And can we hang out again if you’re staying for longer than I’m expecting you to?” 

Harry giggled and a hand shot up to hold Zayn’s sleeve. “I’m stuck here for a week, Louis was very quite thorough in his insistence.” 

“Speaking of, I’m going to go get your phone.” Zayn pried Harry’s fingers off. “Then I’m going to woo you, because we’re psychotic like that.” 

“You can definitely try.” 

Now it was Zayn’s time to snort, haphazardly sliding across the glazed wooden floors in his socks to the living room, only to find Harry’s cell laying on the coffee table with a note written underneath it. 

_ Someone named Louis texted asking where Harry was, so I just replied and gave them our address. Hope he doesn’t mind XO -Whit  _

“Ah, fuck,” Zayn grabbed it and ran back into his bedroom, where Harry was softly breathing against his pillow. “Harry, scooch over.” 

“Mm?” Harry asked, letting out a startled gasp when Zayn pecked him on the lips. “Oh, you kissed me again!” 

“Can you open your phone for me? Just need your thum—mhm, yeah, just like that. Thanks, babe.” Zayn cackled to himself when the phone opened right to Text Messages, reading the last few tidbits sent back and forth from what must’ve been Louis and Whitney starting a conversation. 

Then finally, Zayn finally scrolled to a picture of himself and Harry cuddling in bed, Whitney having must have innocently taken it to prove to Louis that Harry was there and safe. “Fuck no.” 

“Hm?” 

“No, you shush. Sleep. Sleeeeeep,” Zayn waved his hands around. “Now, how did you react to this, Louis?” 

**Oh it’s Zayn. **

**Zayn? **

**ZAYN**

**Nah fuck that shit we’re coming right now. Thx for letting me know Whitney you’re a gem **

That was fifteen minutes ago. Zayn looked at the time, and it turned out he and Harry had only been napping for an hour. Time was of the essence. 

“Harry, I lied, wake back up, babe, wake up wake up wake up wake up—“ 

“You’re so annoying.” 

“Louis’ on his way here,” Zayn explained, pulling Harry up and thumbing at his face. “God, it looks like I poisoned you.” 

“Did you poison me?” Harry had the nerve to joke, raising a perfect eyebrow right into Zayn’s heart. 

Zayn shook his head, looking doe-eyed and Harry looking back at him all confused and unaware. “Fuck, you’re so cute.” 

“You’re cuter,” Harry retorted as if it were an insult. “I don’t care if Louis’ coming. I want to stay here, your mattress is a lot nicer than the cabin’s I rented.” 

“That’s good to know, babe. Good. To. Know.” Zayn struggled as he heaved Harry onto his back and carried him to the living room. 

“Where did Whitney and Earl go?” He asked, rubbing his eyes when Zayn gently let him down onto the couch. “My cocoa disappeared.” 

“What is it with you and cocoa? Goodness,” Zayn sighed, running a hand through his hair. “My hands are getting sweaty, ‘M so nervous. Louis doesn’t like me, does he?” 

“Well, you did lead me on kinda sorta and then called me after ignoring me for three months kinda sorta and then you dated Niall and came out with him online kinda sorta,” Harry defended weakly, trying not to laugh as Zayn’s face contorted continuously to an expression of pure horror. “My head hurts.” 

“Stay here, I’ll get you some Tylenol.” Zayn said, disappearing into a hallway and leaving Harry by himself in the living room. 

It was only about a minute before an incessant knocking punctuated the silence in the room, and for a moment, Harry thought Zayn had run outside and was knocking on the front door with how frantic it was. He thought it best to leave it until Zayn came back, which he did, and he stared at the front door from his safe view at the couch. 

The door swung open and Louis and Liam were standing there, looking wide eyed and shocked beyond belief to see the actor standing there. Harry expected the worst, but they all froze and stared at each other for a second, Louis’ brow still furrowed with his eyes trained on Zayn’s presence; Zayn’s existence. 

“Hi Haz,” Liam piped up finally, smiling in a confused way. “You’ve been busy.” 

“It wasn’t a scheme, Lou, I swear,” Harry reasoned when Louis politely asked Zayn if he could come in. “It was an accident and it just happened, don’t be mad.” 

“I’m not mad that you’re here, Haz. I’m mad that you ran off without telling us and let us think for hours on end that someone kidnapped you and took you for their Harry shrine and married you while they tied you up in their basement.” 

“It was two hours, Lou.” 

“Li, you’re supposed to back me up here.” 

“And you,” Louis pointed an accusing finger at Zayn, whose body waved like a cat with all its hair standing up. “Just keep turning up, huh? What’s happening this time, fellas? Are you dating, are you not? Is this an affair or is this a booty call? What is the truth?” He put his hands on his hips. 

“Uh,” Harry and Zayn vocalized in unison. “We don’t…we don’t know.” 

“Oh.” Louis clearly wasn’t expecting that answer, judging by the way he blinked quickly and his eyes glazed over in deep thought. 

‘Please save me, God.’ Zayn thought to himself, realizing just how buff Liam was if Louis decided that he was going to get a punch for all the asshole things he did in the past. 

“I’m not ashamed to be here, Lou,” Zayn’s head snapped up when he heard Harry say it, his heart jumping around in his chest at every word. “My head hurts real bad, though, so who knows if I’m being truthful or not.” 

“Oh, shut up. We all know nothing could make you leave. You have a lovely home, Zayn.” Louis says very cordially, pointing to the wall scones. “Those are nice.” 

“I know,” Zayn laughed, finding it all so ironic, “Harry inspired me to get them.” 

Louis and Liam exchange a look, looking benign and knowing at each other before looking back at the other pair. “You okay, Haz? You look all sick, honey,” Louis came forwards, sitting down on the couch and immediately pressing a hand to Harry’s forehead. “Gosh, you’re burning up. You’re lucky Whit saved you when she did.” 

“‘Whit?’ You’re on a nickname basis now? And I only had to be rescued once  _ you _ ran off, Lou.” Harry blew a raspberry at him, Liam gasping at the atrociousness. 

“It’s just weird to see you and Zayn together again, I just,” Louis’ voice became louder. “Thought he was dating Niall or somethin’ like that.” 

“We didn’t really date,” Zayn tried to defend himself in the most plain way possible. “He just kind of used me to come out and I went with it.”

“Life truly does come full circle.” 

“Lou, even if I did hate his guts, which I don’t, we still would’ve had to see him at the premiere, right? I don’t even think I’m mad anymore.” Harry smiled with his eyes closed when Louis caressed the side of his face. 

Louis turned around to look at Zayn. “I’m sorry, bro. It’s just, I’m trying to act without any bias here, but it’s hard not to, you know?” 

“I get it, I completely get it,” Zayn chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of his head. “It’s something that’s confused me for a while too, I was just trying to figure some shit out for myself.” He sat down on Harry’s other side, an arm wrapping around Harry as if it were the most natural thing in the world. 

“We had dinner reservations, but if you aren’t feeling good we can just drop you off back the cabin…?” Liam suggested, already knowing his answer. Harry blushed and looked at Louis with a series of telling eyes.

“Guess you and me are going on a date, Li,” Louis said while smiling at Harry, not breaking eye contact even for a second. He waggled his eyebrows, to which Harry grabbed his face and shook it around in embarrassment. 

“You guys can stay for dinner, if you’d like,” Zayn offered boldly, but Harry shook his head at him. Liam laughed at this, taking Louis’ hand into his. “Or…or not, I guess.” 

“Tylenol, I want tylenol, Zayn,” Harry demanded softly, blinking quickly at him and shuffling closer. “Head hurts.” 

“Yeah, ‘course,” Zayn sighed, smiling fondly, and suddenly, it was as though they were the only two people in the entire world. 

“Okay, I’ll fuck off, jesus christ,” Louis put his hands up, leaping up and pulling Liam towards the door. “I just wanted to say that you two are the dumbest fuckers I’ve ever met.” 

“And you’re annoying,” Harry stuck his tongue out and Louis reprimanded by blowing a raspberry at him. “Love you.” 

“Whatever, you dumb snot.” Zayn barely even got up before they walked out the door, hands flying wildly to give them a polite farewell. 

“The fuck was that?” Zayn clutched his chest dramatically when he plopped back down, earning a giggle. “I thought I was going to shit my pants.” 

“I’d never seen you so serious,” Harry guffawed, scrunching up his nose when Zayn leaned back to crush him. “It was really cute.” 

Zayn turned around to look right at Harry’s face, in all its wonder and edging glory, the bones placed exactly where they were meant to be, the green in his eyes sparkling exactly as they were meant to shine. Looking into them made Zayn feel electric.

“What’re you looking at?” 

“Nothing, really.” 

** _Pre-Production_ ** **. **

“Zayn, you fucker. I thought I told you no solicitation.” Alex was fuming, so consumed he was nearly radiating fury. 

“I sorry, I sorry,” Zayn snorted, sprawled out on his Los Angeles apartment couch with his phone in his face. “We gotta keep the press working.” 

“I hate you,” Alex says without meaning it, scrunching up multiple newspapers in his hands. He is currently creating another one of his vision boards, because in Los Angeles, that’s what one does when you’re stressed. 

“But you can’t get enough of me.” What Zayn was doing on his phone was stalking Harry Styles’ Instagram page—his future co-star and long awaited star-crossed lover reunion. He knew that it’d been a long time since they’d last worked together, and his reputation has become immensely notorious ever since, but some part of his heart hoped and dreamed there was still something there.

“I know you’re stalking Harry Styles, and you better stop it. He’s an untouchable; goddamn future presidential candidate level untouchable.” 

“I’m not going to do anything, Alex, calm down,” Zayn shook his head, smiling at a picture of Harry and his grandmother that was taken last Thanksgiving. “God, he’s so precious.” 

“Y’know, when I saw him and his manager at a meeting last week, he gave everyone cookies. Like, individually wrapped and homemade peanut butter chocolate chip cookies. Then he flipped his hair and he smelled like a damn Pantene commercial, he could totally rival Angelina Jolie or like, Mother Teresa for their future positions as saints.” Alex was now organizing Zayn’s multivitamins and making sure his Equinox payments went out. Just LA tingz. 

“And why did I not go to this meeting?” Zayn leaped up and narrowed his eyes at his manager and total confidante. Well, he didn’t know about his secret daughter, so perhaps he was a ‘mostly’ confidante. “Why did I not receive a saint cookie?” 

“Because you’re a fucking demon who isn’t taking his Vitamin D.” 

** _First Day of Shooting. _ **

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there.” Harry was apologizing fervently, helping Zayn up from the bathroom floor. “Shit, I’m so clumsy.” 

“You’re wearing a really nice cologne,” Zayn commented immediately, jumping up to say hi to the potential wondrous love of his life. “I’m Zayn, do you remember me?” 

“From ‘The Things I Don’t Ask?’ Of course I do! I’m a big fan,” 

“Ah,” 

“I’m sorry again for bumping into you, if I’m being honest I was so nervous about meeting you. It’s kind of my first time playing one of these roles, so I’m really glad I have an experienced co-star.” Harry was so bright, he made the whole room glow. At least, that’s what it seemed like in the manic nature of Zayn’s mind. 

“Well,” Zayn rubbed the clamminess of his hands onto his jeans before shaking Harry’s hand. “I’ve seen your work. You’re really talented, I’m luckier to be working with you.” 

“It’s De Nuit L’homme, by the way. This cologne. I got it as a present from one of my friends, she said it smells like me when I take a bath while drinking whiskey. But you didn’t need to know that, shit—“ 

“Actually, I—nevermind. I just meant—well,” Zayn blushed, remembering something embarrassing in the back of his head. “I can imagine it, I guess.” 

“Well, I’ll see you around. I’ll let you get to your business…ew, I’m gross, I’m sorry.” Harry slapped a hand over his face, getting red at the sight of Zayn getting red. 

Zayn shook his head, “Far from it.” 

He tried really hard not to notice how Harry blinked up at him like he just realized something, and he tried really hard not to stare at his ass as he walked out of the restroom. 

** _One Week Before He Called Harry. _ **

“This is so great, I feel so good about finally coming out with it, you know? Shit, don’t you feel good, Zayn?” Niall asked, sitting on his lap like the oddly platonic friends they were. 

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Zayn fiddled with his phone, fingers hovering over the keyboard in his Notes app. He had just begun his seventh paragraph on his dissertation on why he loved Harry more than he had ever loved anyone in his entire life (not including his daughter and his mom). “Are you sure you want to come out with me? Like, stupid playboy fuck buddy me?” 

“Why not? It’ll make Shawn jealous,” Niall clicked his tongue, and Zayn rolled his eyes. 

“Have you never noticed that Liam melts every time he looks at you?” Zayn asked in a bored tone, panting at the thought of what he was going to write next. “Anyways, you agree that this will make sure I can come out without dragging Harry down, right?” 

Niall leaned back and nodded, “For sure. But it’ll fuck up whatever you’ve got going on so far, you do realize that, right?” 

Zayn bit his lip, then looked down at his phone.

“I don’t think you should send that.” 

He snapped his head back up. “Why not?” 

“It’s so lame,” Niall rolled off of him, walking up to the mirror and fixing up his hair. “If you’re going to express your love, do it in some grand gesture, like rent a yacht or fill the whole studio with roses. Or at the very least, call him instead.” 

“Call him? I haven’t—I haven’t talked to him in months, shit. And you should sit back down, it’s not good for your leg.” 

“I’m healed and cleared by my doctor, dad,” Niall said nonchalantly, flaunting his fan-decorated leg cast. “Thank god for snowboarding, I thought I’d never escape Liam.” 

“You’re a bitch. Liam’s sweet,” Zayn tutted, beginning to panic when his essay fell short. “I don’t know what to write next.” 

“If you’re still going to write that, you should use it as a backup in case you fuck up your phone call,” Niall suggested, hobbling back to the couch. “You should talk about all the things you feel when you’re near him, and why he should give you a second and third and fourth chance. Say why you think he should give you a chance to prove everyone wrong about what they think of you.” Niall patted him on the shoulder. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Zayn admitted dumbly,

watching the cursor blink. 

“Aw,” Niall drawled. “That’s real love, kid.” 

** _The Dissertation On Why This Gay Cat Would Give Up All of His Other Eight Lives for A Certain Harry Styles (Say That Five Times Fast) _ **

A really idiotic metaphor, really. But in the moment, it was so beautifully said that I would’ve thought of him as Plato or Aristotle, spewing out truth like he was the Tupac of all the closeted gay imbeciles waiting for someone to nurture them into the light. That’s me. I’m the closeted gay imbecile. 

He said that coming out to a world that only ever thought of him as the male Mary-Kate of the Olsen Twins was the priciest decision he’d ever made in his youth. They saw him as the cute 12 year old who cracked all the witty jokes on the Saturday Night sitcom, the heartthrob of the tween age group, the baby brother every viewer wished they had. He knew exactly what might happen if that image of him was suddenly cracked and replaced with one of a sodomy practicing lunatic. But he still did it, he told me, and it cost him all of the lives he could’ve ever had.

One stupid metaphor for another, I thought. I said to him that since I was going to continue being in the closet, I guess this meant that I was going to be another straight asshole in the next life, but he’d already be in heaven. As long as I stayed “straight,” I could live out all of my other eight lives, right? Isn’t that what he was saying? 

But what I really took from that conversation was that it wasn’t so bad; coming out, I mean. After all, it just meant you would get to go to heaven faster, and maybe that’s just as good as living multiple times. Straight cats can have straight lives and live nine straight times. Gay cats can live once and be true to themselves for all eternity. 

It was the first time that I ever thought of me coming out as me being true to myself. When I kissed him, it sealed my fate, I’m sure. I left that hotel room and couldn’t sleep, because all I could think was that if I were braver and if I had less to lose, I could go to heaven with Harry, maybe. Then I thought that was stupid, but I’d only just met the guy. 

The next morning, I got a call that Whitney broke her leg in a skiing incident and I had to rush home to take care of my baby girl, who was probably terrified that her invincible goddess of a mother was incapacitated. My darling Earl already had enough trauma as it was that her shitty excuse of a dad was constantly away, always on her screen as someone else. 

I think somewhere on the flight home from Scotland, I decided I’d never forget Harry. It didn’t occur to me that Harry might forget me. 

I never thought that what I felt for Harry was love until I filmed that very first scene with him in the cafe. I was sitting across from him and we were exchanging dialogue like the world was ours and the world we had created was all real, and when the sun hit him just right, it felt like everything I ever wanted was so close. I was sitting across from a boy and I was talking to him like it was okay to fall in love with him, meeting for coffee and laughing and smiling into his face because I wanted him to give me one back. And he did, and although it wasn’t real, the cameras were right over our shoulders, I still fell harder than I know I should’ve. 

I wanted to hold his hand, sing him songs, force him to eat my terrible cooking; It even went as far as imagining him and Earl playing at the playground and smearing cookie dough on each other’s faces. I wanted to jump all across the walls with him, take him to museums and planetariums and tell him that I would trade all the stars in the sky for the right to kiss him in front of the whole world to see. 

We filmed more scenes, and I stole more exchanges. When I accidentally turned up at his house, I knew it was fate. Sue me for believing in such a thing. 

I know I shouldn’t have, but I kept going back to his house. I found myself a completely changed person; I talked about my parents for the first time in years, played the piano for him, walked around so eagerly my heart was nearly racing faster through his hallways. 

When I kissed him again and when our bodies got closer, I realized that this was what love must mean for me, being able to be my bubbly self but allowing someone to bring me back to my state of calm. I never wanted to be the playboy. I never wanted to have this reputation or fame. I just wanted Harry to keep holding my hand and looking at me like he’d never seen anything quite like me before. 

He makes me feel electric, he does. His sense of art, music, and humanity is astonishing. He always looks like he’s thinking something, and I love it so much. It felt natural to call him every single day and talk for hours on all the species of poisonous plants that our ancestors had to maneuver through, to talk about death just as excitedly as one would talk about life, and to reminisce on some of our more solemn childhood memories. All because I felt a connection to him like no other. Am I crazy? Duh. 

But I’m not that crazy, I’m just finally overcompensating for all the times that love and life didn’t really work out for me. 

If I’m being honest, Harry, and yes, I’m going to address you now, love isn’t my strong suit. Neither is acting or sex, if anyone would believe it. (Look at me trying to feign humility.) 

When I was 18, I knocked a girl up right before telling her I was gay. Thank god it was Whitney. If it were any other crazy cunt from my high school I’d be in a different place right now. 

When I was 19, I moved to Los Angeles and met a guy at a gay bar. I broke his heart, I don’t want to explain how. 

When I was 20, a different guy I loved kissed me while I was sleeping at 3 AM before packing up all his things and moving out of my apartment without saying a word. He said that I broke his heart, that he was forced to cheat on me to feel whole, and that I made him feel like shit because of who I was and the constant threat of my reputation. 

And then I realized that when people say you gotta let go of the ones you love, what they really mean is to give them a head start in running away from you. Because I'm the one they need to let go, not the other way around. I'm the last mile in the marathon; the obstacle before the finish line, so it's okay if you leave too. 

Now I’m what, 23 years old? But I’ve been madly in love with you for four years, Harry Styles, and maybe that’s what made all those other guys run. I couldn’t stop thinking about the scenes we filmed together in Scotland, being in that fucking bathtub with you—thanks for that kink, by the way, and talking to you while drunk and hanging upside down off of your hotel bed. The glint in your eyes when you emoted just perfectly for the camera. Jesus, you’re perfect. I don’t even care if you’re a Satanist or if you’re a Nickelback fan. 

I almost want you to run. Because I swear to God, if you keep letting me, I’m going to reveal a whole lot more to you than I want you. I’m going to end up actually singing to you and like, painting a portrait of your face. Maybe even dropping your name the next time an interviewer asks me who my celebrity crush is. 

Hell, maybe I’ll even come out just so I could ask you out in the middle of the Warner Brothers’ Studio Lot. 

Maybe I’ll even come out. 

Suddenly doesn’t seem so scary anymore. 

** _Back To Big Bear. _ **

“Zayn,” Harry gasped underneath him, “How’d you spread my legs so fast?” 

“It’s a talent of mine,” Zayn laughed, pinning Harry down harder into the couch with his hand next to his face. “You okay?” 

“You’re so getting sick.” 

“Babe, you’ve been “sick” for like, two hours. You’re not even coughing anymore. Calm down.” He bent down to kiss him, tongues getting tangled up within a second and the world started to spin. 

“Zayn,” Harry complained, panting when Zayn’s lips attached to his neck. “How’s…how’re your sisters?” 

He pulled back. “My sisters?” 

“Yeah, you have lots of sisters, right? They back in Massachusetts?” 

Zayn shook his head in disbelief, “God, the things you choose to remember…” He smiled to himself. “They’re doing fine, they really liked the Eli and Ebele memorabilia you sent them.” 

Harry felt another blush rushing on, so awkwardly turned to the side. “I’m glad. They were so sweet, Safaa hand wrote me a letter and mailed it to the studio, I didn’t show you because you weren’t there for the last few scenes.” 

Zayn groaned, crawling back over Harry. “Are you trying to distract me? Gonna ask about my grandmother next?” 

“Grandma?” A voice made both of them jump, tumbling off of the couch. Whitney cackled, holding Erlyis’ face away from the sight, laughing by herself at the boys. “Dadddddddy,” 

“Hi, baby girl,” Zayn sputtered, shooting Whitney an angry glare whilst running over to take his daughter into his arms. “Back for your nap? Did it get too cold outside?” 

“Hi,” Harry squeaked, Whitney not even bothering to embarrass him more as she walked away laughing maniacally. “Okay.” 

“I dun wanna sleep, daddy,” Erlyis shook her head, leaning against her father’s shoulder with a resistant expression on her face. Zayn gave Harry a look of apology. “Hi Mr. Harry.” 

“Hi, sweetheart.” Harry smiled at her. She really was adorable, had Zayn’s eyes and bone structure, but Whitney’s eye color and her hair looked like some blonde was fighting for dominance. A future heartbreaker. A true playboy family. 

“Dove, you have to go to sleep, you’re practically already there right now,” Zayn’s voice goes soft when he talks to his daughter, Harry noticed, really trying to not let it affect how warm his heart was becoming. “If you don’t take a nap you’ll really piss off Mommy later.” 

“Bah,” 

“I can,” Harry shot out, not thinking straight. “I can read you a story, if that’ll help? I’m good at reading out loud.” 

Both Maliks looked at him for a moment before Zayn snorted, beckoning with his head for Harry to follow them. 

“No,” Earl whined, changing into pajamas Zayn pulled out for her, still whining when Zayn lifted her back into his arms. 

“What’s wrong?” Harry asked as he watched Zayn brush her hair softly, head lolling around as she fought slumber. 

“She always gets like this,” Zayn whispered, gently running the brush past her scalp and repeating the motion. “It’s ‘cause I’m gone so much.” 

“Oh, I see.” Harry took over naturally and began to French Braid her head of ringlets all the way down. “It’ll be out of her face and cute when you pull it out.” 

“Hm,” Zayn smiled at him. “You’re good with kids, huh?” 

“I like ‘em,” Harry stated, giggling when Earl’s head dropped forward so abruptly she woke herself back up. “Sweetie, you seem tired.” 

“Mr. Harry Harry Harry,” Earl exclaimed drowsily, but complaining again when Zayn held her on his lap. “No.” 

“Dove, I promise I’m not going anywhere,” Zayn tried when he laid her on the bed. “Don’t you believe me?” 

“No.” 

Zayn sighed, “Can you stay here with her? I’m going to heat up some milk.” 

“Sure,” Harry nodded, looking back down at Earl. “How come you don’t want to sleep, sweetheart?” 

“I get nightmares,” Earl admitted, kicking her blanket around. “Then I wake up and daddy’s not here.” 

“Daddy will always come back, isn’t that true?” Harry covered her back with it, which seemed to surprise her. 

Earl shook her head, “Can’t tell if it’s a bad dream or not.” 

“Well, you know that it’s a nightmare when your dad isn’t there fighting the monsters with you,” Harry smiled warmly, brushing the side of her cheek. “And even though sometimes he’s gone and it feels like he’s thousands of miles away, he’s always going to be here,” He pointed to her head, “And here.” Then her heart. “He loves you so much that he’s always with you.” 

“Oh,” Earl blinked at him, looking lost in thought. “Maybe.” 

“He’s right,” Zayn came back into the room suddenly, and Harry wasn’t sure just how much of that he heard. “I heard everything, by the way.” Well, fuck. 

“Daddy, are you leaving tonight?” Earl sipped her milk, sounding passive aggressive. 

“I think I’ll have to, dove, Mr. Harry’s going to steal me away until the morning,” Zayn looked right into Harry’s eyes with a devilish grin. 

“Hm,” Earl didn’t sound like she approved, but she finished her drink and crawled into bed, staring at Zayn and Harry until she fell asleep. 

“What a cute kid,” Harry sighed, looking at Zayn like he’s done someone proud. “You made a really cute kid.” 

“I know,” he responded cheekily, grabbing Harry’s hand and pulling him out the door swiftly and silently. “Now, let’s go.” 

“Where are we going?” 

“I’m taking you out, Harry Styles.” 

* * *

Harry was warm. So, so warm. As unfortunate as it was, one of his worst habits that he procured from his anxiety was to incessantly nibble on the inside of his cheek. This moment was one of those moments. “Uh, Zayn?” 

“I told you not to worry, and I can feel you worrying even with my back turned.” 

Harry slapped the back of Zayn’s head. “No, you dolt, I meant…actually, I’m not even sure myself.” 

They were both idiots. You can’t light a fire with wet wood. 

Zayn had dragged him into the middle of nowhere, the glittering snow and the wondrous sunset beginning to manifest across the horizon. Harry’s mouth was beginning to get sore from how long he’d been watching Zayn struggle to light a fire. 

“Okay, I give up.” 

“Thank you,” Harry giggled, taking out the flint—the cheating tool, as Zayn called it, before pointing to a shed with some already dried firewood stacked about. “Think we can borrow some of that?” 

“I actually think Whit cut that up, considering we’re still on our land,” Zayn scrunched his nose up to loosen how stiff his face had become from the concentration. “You did an excellent job creating a shelter, city boy.” 

“You’d be surprised at just how adaptable I can be, strangely useless small town snow boy,” Harry insulted lovingly, creating a divot for the proper firewood to go. “Please don’t tell me we’re camping out in your backyard.” 

“We’re not, I wouldn’t make you do that. How’s the parka, by the way?” Zayn teased, looking awfully smug at how his winter coat swallowed Harry up. “You look nice and toasty.” 

“The lining of this parka is a hideous shade of Chartreuse, actually, so I don’t know how to feel,” Harry leaped in triumph when the flame stuck, jumping up and down to show Zayn. “I did it!” 

“You did it!” Zayn bounced along with him, making the snow slip off the branches of a nearby tree. “Ah, shit.” 

“Make me a s’more, Malik,” Harry demanded, handing Zayn a stick before digging the ground to find the bag of frozen marshmallows. “You wanna tell me why we’re here?” 

“To watch the stars, of course,” Zayn laughed, poking a mallow through his stick. He sat down in the tent, patting the space next to him. “Tell me a story, Styles. You said it yourself you were good at it.” 

“I said I was good at reading aloud,” Harry retorted, gasping a little when their elbows crashed together. “You tell  _ me _ a story.” 

“Fine.” 

Zayn went silent for a few moments, and so they stared out into the forest and the night sky permeating between the trees. The red and the oranges were slowly giving way to the patterns of denim blue, the sun dancing goodbye. “Do you want to make it a sad story, or a real story?” 

“Can it be both?” Harry asked, blowing on his nearly burnt marshmallow before slipping it off in between two graham crackers. 

Zayn nodded, “Do you wanna hear about the time I nearly punched Robert Downey Jr. in the face?” 

Harry choked, sputtering a laugh. “You what? Actually, I’m not that surprised.” 

“Excuse me?” Zayn clutched his chest dramatically, and Harry giggled, stuffing the rest of his s’more into his mouth. 

“You know what I wanna hear?” 

“What?” 

“I wanna know how you got so good at the piano,” Harry blinked up at him, and suddenly, their bodies were less than a foot apart. His eyes were so bright, and the orange glow from the fire made his eyes look golden. Zayn felt like there were a gazillion jolts of electricity running through the sole of his feet out the top of his head. 

“Sure, yeah. I uh, I was actually merit certified at an advanced level as a kid,” 

Harry’s jaw dropped, “No way,” 

“Yeah, but then I stopped because my sister wanted to take violin and our parents couldn’t afford both.” Zayn shrugged, “That’s all there really is to it. I hadn’t played in years until I went over to your house. It was like yours was talking to me, y’know? Sounds stupid, probably.” 

“It sounded really great,” Harry blurted out, wanting to make Zayn feel good. “Seriously, I was considering selling it off in an auction, but hearing you play made me remember how good I felt when I did a piece right. I started practicing again.” 

There was silence, and both of them froze. Harry became beet red, almost looking constipated in his shyness at what he just said, and Zayn’s heart was thumping so loudly it could’ve been mistaken for the beat of a metronome. 

“Do you mean that?” Zayn asked, and the tempo grew faster; Allegro. 

“‘Course I do.” Harry said without hesitation. “My voice teacher used to always play the piano for me every time I had a recital or an audition, just so I wouldn’t get nervous. The one I have at home; I bought it ‘cause I thought it’d make me less nervous all the time.” 

“I wanna hear you sing, I’ll accompany you,” Zayn said dumbly, and Harry laughed. “What’s your favorite musical?” 

“Don’t make me choose,” Harry drawled, and Zayn leaned in to kiss his cheek. “Huh?” 

“Sorry, you had chocolate on your face.” 

“So you kissed it off?” 

“Uh,” Zayn blushed. “Shit, sorry.” 

Harry shook his head, “No, you should do it again,” His eyes went wide. “Only if you want to, of course you don’t have to if you don’t want to, I didn’t mean to force you—“ 

Zayn dropped his stick into the snow and grabbed Harry’s waist, pressing his chin into a tilt as their lips met. Harry’s hands flew wildly until they met Zayn’s face, grasping it as hot breath made clouds into the biting air. They pulled away, panting heavily, then pulled each other in again, furiously smashing their faces together like horny teenagers. 

“Shit, shit—“ Zayn stuttered, a hand flying to Harry’s hip as the latter fell further into his chest. “Should we do this?” 

“Not in the snow.” 

“Huh?” 

“We surely can’t fuck in the snow, Zayn,” Harry whined, pulling at the parka where it was tugging on his neck. “I’m sweating, oh lord.” 

His eyes bugged out of his head, “Fuck? Fuck in the snow? You want to fuck? Fuck me?” 

“Have you ever met anyone who didn’t want to fuck you, Zayn?” 

“You’ve a point, but…you’re a virgin.” 

Harry’s face fell. “Is that a dealbreaker?” 

Zayn nearly gave himself whiplash at how hard he shook his head. “No no, just…well, are you sure you want me to be your first?” 

“Why, are you bad?” 

Zayn nearly laughed at Harry’s bluntness. “Well, I don’t know anyone who’d describe themselves as being bad at sex, but I just wanted to make sure you know the implications of…me, right?” 

“Zayn,” Harry looked frustrated, “I don’t care who the world thinks you are, idiot. I don’t care what anyone says about me, or us. I want you to know that.” 

The boy’s heart exploded, bless him. 

“Should we go back inside? Not sure how keen I am on my first time being in a damp tent,” 

“I’m not even sure how the logistics of that would work—“ 

“Well, it’d be fairly simple, all I’d have to do is take off our pants and sit on your—“ 

“Aaaaaaah,” Zayn vocalized, flapping his body about to stop Harry from talking more. “You’ve certainly become more bold these last few months, haven’t you, babe?” 

“Call me babe again and you’ll have to burn this tent, Zayn,” Harry warned coyly, the glint in his eyes meaning business. 

“We can’t go back into the house, Earl and Whitney are sleeping.” 

“I rented a cabin,” Harry piped, fumbling to stand up only to fall on top of Zayn’s chest. “Shit, I’m looking desperate, aren’t I?” 

“I promise that I’m more desperate,” Zayn stammered, throwing snow on their fire hurriedly and helping Harry out of the tent. “You have condoms?” 

“And lube, don’t ask why.” Harry zipped up Zayn’s parka for him and covered his face with a scarf, which made the latter blush. “Okay, let’s go.” 

“I can’t believe this is happening.” 

“Stop running so fast, I’m going to faceplant!” Harry complained, gripping onto Zayn’s arm as he leaped through the thick layer of snow covering the ground. “Jesus, why are we even running? We’re not even going that much faster.” 

“It’s for dramatic effect, babe.” 

* * *

“It’s freezing in here, I’m starting a fire.” Zayn’s vision was going in circles as he softly focused on Harry’s body unzipping from his layers and throwing his sweater onto the ground. “Boil a lot of water for some tea, I’m going to turn the hot water for the shower.” 

“We’re showering?” Zayn barely got his boots off before Harry had already hit the fireplace and began to fill a large pot from the sink. 

“I know exactly how I want this to go, sue me,” Harry turned on the stove, running back and forth in his fuzzy socks as Zayn slowly unraveled his scarf from his neck. “I’m fucking the shit out of you tonight.” 

“Looks like Scotland,” Zayn whispered, lost in the transcendental view of the outside. “Takes me back.” 

Harry came up behind him, his arms wrapping around his middle. “‘M cold.” 

“I’m cold too, c’mere.” Zayn spun around and yanked Harry into his arms. “You’re so gorgeous, I’m sure I’ve cried about it.” 

“Have you ever said that before?” Harry raised an eyebrow just as Zayn leaned down to kiss him, knocking their foreheads together. “Tell me,” 

“No, and I’m not lying. I swear I’ve cried over you a thousand times, Harry Styles. Get on the bed.” 

“Shit, okay,” Harry didn’t realize how submissive he was becoming, or how much of an expert Zayn was at knocking off his shoes. “What’re you doing?” 

“Showing you off,” Zayn said as if it were the dirtiest thing in the entire world, which granted, it was. 

Harry’s breath hitched when Zayn crawled back up from in between his legs, admiring him when he sat back on his knees to unzip himself out of his sweaters and shirt. His abs looked glowing, and Harry simply couldn’t think it fair. Zayn pushed his hair back suddenly, eyes darting around the room. “Looking for something?” 

“Just making sure we’re safe, ‘s a habit I have.” 

Sexy. 

Harry made grabby hands for him, leaning back until he felt his head hit the mattress, trying not to scream at the sight of  _ Zayn motherfucking Malik  _ bending down over him. “I think these pants have done their job.” 

“Are you a pornstar?” Harry clenched his eyes shut and covered his face with the back of his forearm, struggling to breathe at the sensation of Zayn’s fingers picking at his jeans. “Zayn,” 

“You wanna stop?” 

“Of course I don’t wanna stop, don’t make me cry,” Harry snapped harmlessly, earning him a giggle. “You’re laughing at me.” 

“God, open your eyes, babe,” Zayn yanked his pants down and Harry’s eyes flew open as his hands flailed about for some purchase. “Lube?” 

“Under the bed.” 

“Why’s it under the bed?” 

“Why do you think it’s under the bed?” 

“You’re so cute, oh my god, so shy about fingering yourself,” Zayn yelped when Harry slapped his ass, retrieving the bottle from exactly where Harry said it was. He came back up and expectantly hovered over Harry’s face for a kiss until the latter gave him one. “Thank you. Now split your knees.” 

“Can you stop audibly narrating? You’re making me shy,” Harry gasped when Zayn pinched his inner thigh. “Oh, fuck off.” 

Zayn laughed, pumping a bit of lube onto his fingers. “Sorry, babe. C’mere,” He beckoned for Harry to get closer, and suddenly, his lips were on his neck and his fingers were circling his hole. “I’m gonna start with two, okay?” 

“Two?” Harry squeaked, and Zayn pulled back to read his face. He looked too beautiful. Harry pushed him back onto his neck. 

“Did you not finger yourself yesterday, did I read that wrong?” Zayn mumbled against his skin, pressing forward and Harry jumped. 

“You’re, you’re not wrong, per say,” Harry tried to defend, but Zayn bit his neck and pushed in further. “Fuck!” 

“Hurts?” 

“No,” Harry sniffled, feeling like the world was going to collapse on top of him as punishment for letting the most beautiful man in the world defile him. “Don’t stop.” 

Zayn smiled at him, pressing their lips together sweetly and gently as he worked his two fingers inside Harry with vigor, shoving them fast and twisting them around. “I’m adding a third, tell me to stop if…” his words were cut short when Harry arched his back suddenly, screaming out a broken moan just as Zayn jabbed at his prostate. His toes curled, and when he collapsed back onto the bed, his chest heaved in and out. “Well, fuck. You like that, babe?” 

“God, please fuck me,” Harry babbled, grabbing Zayn’s face and squirming all over the bed. “Please, please,” 

“Gotta get four in here, babe,” Zayn teased, thumb pressing on his rim. “How am I supposed to fit in here?” 

“Then get four in, now, now—“ Harry demanded, flipping to the side. “Zayn, please.” 

“Holy fuck, you’re so sexy,” Zayn mumbled, biting and nibbling at his neck, struggling to breathe himself just as he pushed a third finger in alongside the first two. “You okay?” 

“I’m okay,” Harry’s hand flew back to grab Zayn’s free one, intertwining their fingers. Zayn thought it was the cutest thing in the entire world. “By the way, if I start crying, it’s not ‘cause it hurts.” 

“Okay.” Zayn didn’t really know what to make of that, but he trusted his word. He worked his fingers in and out, just until Harry’s body relaxed again, not daring to poke a fourth until he melted back into his chest. 

Harry jumped when the cool sensation of more lube hit his burning skin, clenching instinctively when Zayn slipped a fourth finger inside. “Erm.” 

“Hurts?” Zayn was on it, curling towards his prostate. “Stop, slow down? What’s wrong?” 

“Shut up, just need a kiss,” Harry mouthed against Zayn’s chest, tears coming out of the corners of his eyes. “You don’t know just how much I wanted to kiss you, every time I…every time I fingered myself in bed,” 

“Uh huh,” Zayn was loving this. 

“And I imagined that it was you doing it and not me, fuck, I wanted you so bad,” Harry rambled, his sentences slowly becoming more and more incoherent. “Zayn, please, I’m ready, please,” 

“Where are the condoms, baby?” 

“Drawer,” Harry sounded wrecked when Zayn pulled his hand out, going back to turtling himself in on the bed. He couldn’t believe he was actually about to lose his virginity to Zayn motherfucking Malik. “Hey Zayn, how’d we get here?” 

“Baby, if I could answer that…” They both laughed, Harry more so than Zayn, who jumped at the sound of the condom packet ripping open. “Can you flip over, baby? Easier on you.” 

“‘Kay,” Harry moaned, the mattress pressing against his stomach as he did as he was told. “Please, Zayn.” 

“You don’t have to beg, babe,” Zayn lips were on the back of his neck, and Harry heard the sound of the lube being pumped out again. Shit. This was actually happening. “Can you lift a knee for me, baby?”

“Yeah,” Harry said into the pillow, not wanting to show how red his face is. 

“Okay,” Zayn wiped his hands off on a towel before encircling his arms on Harry’s, draping his chest onto his back. “Deep breath, and tell me to stop if you want to stop.” 

“‘Kay.” 

Harry wanted to scream when he felt it: Zayn’s cock nudging at his hole. It felt wider and much hotter than any number of fingers, and suddenly, this became scary really fast. He pushed forward and the world was getting dark, Harry couldn’t see anything and he didn’t know what to make of it other than… 

“Zayn, scar-scared. I’m scared,” Harry whimpered, beginning to panic, but the wind was knocked out of him when Zayn pulled out expediently and flipped him around. “Zayn,”

“What’s wrong? What happened? It hurt?” Zayn looked so worried, gently caressing Harry closer to him. The glow of the fireplace looked just like the glow from the fire outside, Harry realized, except when he gazed upon Zayn’s face this time, whatever he felt was ten times stronger. “Wanna stop?” 

Harry gripped his hand desperately, leaning up for a kiss. “No, don’t wanna stop. Just couldn’t see you.” 

“Oh,” Zayn’s face relaxed, and Harry could’ve come just from that sight repeating again and again. “Let’s get closer then, yeah, babe?” 

“Yeah.” Harry nodded, smiling when Zayn locked their hands together. He was really close, and Harry thought he might just go to heaven at this rate. 

Zayn settled himself in between his legs again, looking right into Harry’s eyes. He pushed in again, and Harry couldn’t look away or close his eyes, just staring right into Zayn’s face with their hands clenched together. 

“Fuck, you’re big,” Harry said suddenly and shifted, making Zayn groan. “No one talks about how fat your cock is, fuck.” 

“Are you  _ trying _ to make me come early? Fuck, don’t squeeze, ah, no,” Zayn haughtily pushed when Harry laughed at him, going back to gently giving him kisses everywhere he could reach. “Shit.” 

Harry couldn’t believe it. He was losing his virginity. Maybe even lost it already. It was such an odd feeling, having someone in between his legs and so open, his body spread out and there wasn’t much he could do about closing it back in. He didn’t even realize he was scrambling for Zayn until he heard him say it. 

“I got you, baby, don’t worry. It’s okay,” Zayn brushed his hair behind his ear, giving his forehead a kiss. “You good?” 

“I good,” Harry smiled, practically putty in his hands. “Is that it?” 

“No,” Zayn grunted, pulling back and shoving forward a little, making Harry’s eyes fly back in shock. “Don’t be daft, Hazza.” 

“Me? Daft?” Harry grumbled, scratching down Zayn’s back when he did it again. “Fuck, you’re going hard.” 

“Well, I’m definitely not gonna go easy,” Zayn’s voice was low in Harry’s ear, and motherfucker did it on purpose. “Give me a second, I’ll find it.” 

“Don’t say things like…ooh, shut up. Just shut your pretty face up.” Harry covered his own face, red as a tomato as Zayn began to experimentally thrust from different angles and all around. 

“Just ‘shut my pretty face up?’ Well thank you, darling, I’m glad you think I’m pretty.” Zayn lifted the back of Harry’s knee and began to move his hips back and forth with more confidence, making the boy underneath him squirm and pant with all the sensations. It wasn’t long before he found his prostate, and it was magical. 

“Fuck,” Harry had actual tears streaming down his face, his whole body getting shoved back every time Zayn pushed. “Feels good.” 

“Yeah? Feels good?” Zayn cooed, teeth grazing his ear. He continued to thump right up against his prostate, Harry’s toes curling and his fingers tightly gripping Zayn’s shoulders like they did him a cruel injustice. “Looks like you’re feeling good.” 

“Oh, fuck off,” Harry babbled, burying his head into Zayn’s neck and panting there. “Shit, shit,” 

He didn’t know what “getting close” was. Sure, he’d orgasmed plenty of times when he would jack off by himself, but never did he get close while fingering himself, ‘cause the only time he did was when Zayn was doing it for him. Now, it felt like a warmth in his belly, his whole body tingling and the stars coming down to greet him. “Shit, I think I’m getting close.” 

“Already?” Zayn sounded genuinely surprised. “You close, babe?” He cooed again, and that didn’t help Harry’s predicament, wrapping a hand around himself and moving it in time with Zayn’s thrusts. “Fuck, you’re so cute. Fuck. Fuck.” 

“Zayn,” Harry could barely get the words out, his vision was getting lost and overwhelming. He kept on looking at their surroundings, at the ceiling. He could hear Zayn calling out his name, but he couldn’t focus on it. 

“Haz? Hi, babe,” Zayn stopped so he could touch Harry’s face, train his eyes on his. “Hi, thought I lost you for a second there. It’s okay, baby,” he whispered, gently pressing their lips together. “Your eyes went all glassy. You okay? Feeling good?” 

“Feeling good,” Harry nodded, feeling incredibly lucky and grateful for some reason. “Zayn, Zayn,” 

“I got you, don’t worry, baby,” Zayn held him closer, “I’m right here, it’s okay.” 

“Fuck,” Harry cried out, his feet were going to get cramps. “Close.”

“I know, baby, it’s all good,” Zayn wrapped a fist around him, moving it for him. “C’mon, come for me, babe.” 

“Shit,” Harry whimpered, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Zayn,” He pulled his head down for a kiss, struggling to breathe as waves of heat overtook his body. 

He spilled all over himself, making Zayn moan with him, their heads hitting. 

“Oh, fuck yeah,” Zayn laughed, settling Harry back down onto the sheets. “That was fucking hot.” 

“Turn over?” Harry was sensitive, Zayn was pressing on his spot inside of him, and he wanted him to come too. “Zayn,” 

“Yeah, babe,” Zayn moaned, pulling out so that he could help Harry flip over onto his stomach. “You okay?” 

“Yeah,” Harry’s voice cut off when Zayn pushed right back in again, his toes have been curled for the last five minutes straight, but he didn’t care. “Fuck.” 

“Fuck,” Zayn agreed, resting his head in the groove of Harry’s neck and shoulder. “Fucking beautiful, you are.” 

He didn’t go easy, pounding hard into the mattress, hips firmly pushing and pulling in a single direction. Somehow, his arms encircled Harry’s, holding his wrists in place with one hand intertwining their fingers. Harry was a mess, whimpering and mumbling incoherent curses into the pillow, something about how Zayn was hitting his prostate even harder this way. 

“Shit, gonna come,” He panted into Harry’s ear, releasing one of his wrists to stuff two fingers into his mouth. “Fuck,” he didn’t expect it when Harry started to suck on them. 

Harry was shrieking, his hair plastered to his face from how sweaty he’d become since the beginning of this ordeal, subconsciously babbling on about how he wanted Zayn to hurry up and come before he did a second time. 

“Haz, fuck, I love you, I love you,” Was Zayn crying? Harry didn’t have the mental capacity to question it when he kept on hitting on his prostate that way, clenching around Zayn’s cock like he had nothing else to take control of…It was mindblowingly hot. 

Zayn’s hips began to stutter, thrusts becoming desperate and messy as he bit down on Harry’s shoulder and came hard, sweat from his brow dripping down onto his back. The pressure made Harry come a second time, and he screamed into the pillow. 

“Fuck, you okay?” Zayn asked when his vision came back, his soul getting pulled back into his body after that truly religious experience. He let go of Harry, pulling out gingerly and turning him around. “Babe?” 

“Zayn,” Harry whimpered, body pliant in Zayn’s arms. “Floaty,” 

“Yeah, I know,” Zayn gently moved them so that he could hold Harry close. “You okay? Feel good?” 

Harry couldn’t really nod, but he tried to, and that was enough for Zayn. “Zayn,” 

“Yeah, babe,” He touched Harry’s cheek with the side of his finger. “Come back, I implore you,” he laughed softly, kissing Harry until his eyes blinked. “There we are.” 

“I’m gonna cry, and I don’t even know what for,” Harry sobbed, letting Zayn kiss his tears away. “You’re amazing.” 

“Are you shitting me? You came twice and the second time I didn’t even touch you, so like, if anyone’s amazing, it’s you,” Zayn sounded proud, and Harry couldn’t help but smile at him dazily. “Beautiful.” 

“I heard you,” Harry teased, eyes fluttering when Zayn kept on twirling his hair around. “You said the L word.” 

“I don’t remember saying ‘Lesbian,’” Zayn teased back, but nonetheless still looking shy. “Maybe you heard wrong.” 

“Nah,” Harry giggled, and Zayn retaliated by biting his neck in embarrassment. “‘I love you,’ I heard you say ‘I love you,’” 

Zayn sighed. “Yeah, I guess I did.” 

“You  _ guess _ you did?” 

“Jeez, your confidence has shot up dramatically now that I’ve made you come twice, huh?” 

“Yeah, my confidence can almost rival your cockiness now,” Harry laughed and kissed him, blinking into his face. “Did you mean it?” 

Zayn was silent for a moment, but he eventually let up. “Of course I did.” 

They lazily cuddled, Harry looking damn satisfied while Zayn looked happily defeated, their bodies disgusting but their souls had never been more pure. 

“Hey Zayn?” 

“Hm?” Zayn was dozing off. 

“Won’t you let me love you,” Harry asked. 

“I would. I could.” 

Harry snuggled into his neck. “Then I’ll love you.” 

“I’ll love you too.” 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there were so many great quotes i could’ve taken the title from this chapter, but shit, guess it don’t matter since y’all here for the smut anyways. 
> 
> sorry this took so long :,)


	8. the way they should be

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Idiot love will spark the fusion**  
**Inspirations have I none**  
**Just to touch the flaming dove**  
**All I have is my love of love**  
-david bowie, soul love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking by me. This was quite a ride and the first story I’ve ever finished in my entire life. Thank you thank you thank you thank you thank you.

“What’re doing?” 

“Writing something,” Zayn whispered, tracing his finger on the side of Harry’s thigh. “Can you tell what it is?” 

“Hm,” Harry thought hard, getting distracted every second each time Zayn kissed him. “I think it says ‘I love you?’” 

“You’re insane,” Zayn laughed, “But yeah. Can’t believe you got that.” 

“I actually just guessed,” Harry shrugged, laughing softly. The heat from the fireplace was making his skin glow orange, and Zayn was just tracing and tracing and tracing. “Hey Zayn?” 

“Yeah, babe?” His heart fluttered. 

“Uh, so, I just—you don’t have to but I mean—I guess—“

“Out with it, Hazza,” Zayn let the pet name roll off his tongue like caramel, and Harry hated him for it for just a selfish second. 

“Can you tell me? Why you didn’t come out before?” Harry nuzzled his face into his neck, embarrassed at how literally and metaphorically naked he was. 

Zayn sighed, placing a hand on his back. “My mom thinks I’m an abomination,” 

Harry pulled back, “No,” 

“Yes, it’s true,” Zayn put his hands up. “And my parents live in this crazy religious community that’s almost cult level spiritual and my parents have a reputation there.” 

“So they couldn’t have their gay son being out to the entire world,” Harry whispered, Zayn nodding slowly. 

“She threatened me, basically,” Zayn scoffed. “Already kicked me and Whit out for having premarital sex but then shit got weird and eventually she told me that if I came out and tried to take Earl away she’d tell ICE that Whit’s illegal.” 

Harry’s eyes went wide. “Wait, really?” 

Zayn kissed his nose, “Yeah, she is. So I couldn’t do anything Haz, I swear I wanted to the first time I met you. ‘Was killing me, y’know?” 

“I know,” Harry felt bad, so he cuddled closer. “I’m sorry for giving you such a hard time.” 

“S’okay, baby,” Zayn kissed at his neck. “You didn’t know.” 

Harry shook his head, “I should’ve tried being more considerate, I think I just got blinded by something or…I dunno.” 

“Nah, you did what was right. You don’t deserve to be with someone who was so ashamed of who they were they couldn’t even walk outside with you and hold hands. You experienced that before, and because I didn’t tell you anything, for all you knew I was just another closeted asshole who was going to throw you away the second shit got tough.” Zayn smiled mischievously, “Wanna go again?” 

“Nuh uh, wait,” Harry whined when Zayn rolled on top of him and spread his legs. “You need to finish this goddamn story. You came out, so something happened.” 

Zayn moped, but came around again. “Whit’s from Switzerland, was born there and her parents just kind of flew over and…never left. I dunno why, Switzerland’s great. But oh well, she didn’t have citizenship. That cabin is under my name, I do all the legal stuff with Earl, but that day when Niall posted that picture of us was the day her green card finally came in through the mail.” 

“Oh,” Harry drawled, understanding the time parallels. “Well, is everything worked out?” 

Zayn smiled at him, “Earl and Whit are eventually going to move to L.A, she got a gig as a personal trainer at the gym I go to. I don’t know how,” Zayn said it in a way that suggested something different. “But uh, she’ll be set. We’ll be set.” 

Harry sputtered, “You are a great guy.” 

Zayn snorted, “Am I? I’m just going to constantly be repenting for accidentally knocking her up.” 

“You could’ve just left,” Harry pointed out. “But you did the right thing every single time.” 

“Are you just trying to fatten my ego?” Zayn raised an eyebrow, “Because it’s already pretty fat, don’t enable me.” 

Harry looked pensive, “Can I blow you?” 

There was a pause. “What?” Zayn asked while blinking frantically. “Sorry, who are you?” 

“I’ve given blowjobs before,” Harry shrugged, and Zayn’s face went red. 

“For who?” 

“Does it matter?” Harry crawled down underneath the blanket, and now Zayn was convinced that he was in a dream. It had to be. 

“Yes, yes it does matter,” He gasped when he felt his boxers being pulled down by cold hands, but he didn’t dare move or say a word. He could feel Harry’s breath on his skin, and immediately got hard just thinking about Harry’s face when— 

“Hm, Benji.”

Zayn scrunched his nose up and made the blanket fly. “Excuse me? Your doorman Benji?” 

“Yeah,” Harry glared at him, literally was about to take him in his mouth. “But he’s gone, and you’re here now.” 

“I hate that guy! He was so mean to me,” Zayn pouted, sitting up to hold Harry’s chin gently. “You dated an asshole.” 

“I’d like to think…” 

“Oh shit—“

“That he was quite the gentleman.” Harry stuck out his tongue and licked up a stripe up Zayn’s dick, eyes fluttering shut. “Now can you shut up?” 

“Yeah, shit, sorry,” Zayn moved his hand to gather Harry’s hair and hold it away from his face as he stretched his lips around his cock and pushed himself down. “Fuck, you look so good.” 

Harry moaned around him, making electricity jump from the soles of his feet to his stomach. “Shit shit shit,” His mouth hung open when Harry pressed onwards, determined to take him all in. “Harry,” 

Harry looked up at him, and Zayn nearly came. “Fuck.” 

“Hm?” Harry asked, nose touching his skin, a whimper leaving his lips when he had to pull back to breathe. 

“You’re good at that, aren’t you?” Zayn panted, touching the sides of Harry’s face. “Damn.” 

“Zayn,” Harry whined, licking his lips before wrapping his mouth around him again, going up and down with experienced swoops and swirls with his tongue. 

He pulled off and began to stroke Zayn with his hand, biting his lower lip and breathing heavily. Harry’s face was flushed, his pupils were dilated, and when Zayn removed his hand from his hair to under his chin, he trembled. “Holy fuck, you really like it, huh baby?”

Harry’s face became even more red, but nodded and stuck his tongue out, slapping the head of Zayn’s dick on it before putting it down his mouth again. He whined when Zayn reached down and pinched a nipple, the sound high in his throat like the sensation was too much. He pulled off and shook his head, “Nuh uh, babe, ah,” 

“You look so beautiful, Harry, you’ve no idea. We should do this in front of a mirror.” 

“You kinky fucker.” 

“You’re the one slapping yourself with my dick, babe, I think neither of us have license to kink-shame right now,” Zayn laughed lowly, and Harry went red. “Sorry, didn’t mean to tease.” 

Harry trembled again when Zayn touched his face, “No, when you do that thing with your voice, like, make it go all low and stuff—“ 

“Oh,” Zayn whispered, pulling Harry’s chin up firmly and his head down to meet their lips. “You mean like this?” 

Harry gasped, both embarrassed at how Zayn was smirking at him but also the most turned on he’s ever been in his life. 

_‘_bEnJi_ could never,’_ Zayn thought. “Hey babe, I have an idea. Let’s move to the edge of the bed, yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Harry whispered, heart beating so quickly it was putting his whole body in some kind of frenzy. He got off of the bed and dropped to his knees at the edge, waiting for Zayn to situate himself in front of him. “What’s your idea?” 

Zayn smirked at him again, and Harry must’ve had steam coming out of his ears from how flustered he was. The latter had no idea that Zayn would grab his head and start gently shoving his cock down his throat while whispering filth with his mouth sounding like he just woke up. 

“Like being stuffed, baby? Yeah, taking me all the way in, you’re so good,” Zayn groaned and his face contorted in pleasure when Harry’s tongue moved on the underside of his dick like a genius. “Yeah babe, breathe through your nose.” 

Harry moaned loudly, making Zayn stiffen up. He was holding Harry’s face still and still letting Harry go at his own pace, but the constant acknowledgement of the power Zayn currently had over him was just so hot. His eyes couldn’t help but shut when his cock hit the back of his throat, but even as he gagged, he felt there was an intense ecstasy convulsing in his stomach. 

“Hazza, babe, look at me,” Zayn’s voice was deepened and Harry didn’t know if he could handle it. “Hazza,” 

Harry’s fists squeezed the bed frame. 

“Your mouth is a sin, fucking walkin’ past me for the last four years with those lips as if you were some innocent angel,” Zayn let it all pour from his mouth, wiping Harry’s tears away. 

Harry, for a split second, was resolute in that he wanted to die in this position, tell God that he came just from sucking off Zayn motherfucking Malik and he had no regrets, nah. 

“Babe, I’m gonna come,” Zayn warned, pulling at Harry’s hair slightly. “Babe.” 

Harry looked at him and fluttered his lashes, looking angelic and wrecked and _You deserve it baby_ and then Zayn shuddered, coming down Harry’s throat with his nose pressed to his pelvis. “Fuck.” 

“That was fast,” Harry croaked, wiping his mouth after popping off. He kissed the head, messily licking up and all around before coming back up to kiss him. “Feel good?” 

“Holy shit, just how many times did you suck Benji off?” 

Zayn had an arm covering his eyes and his chest heaved up and down, protectively pulling Harry close to him. 

“You’re so easily jealous, dunno if I like that,” He joked. 

“No, babe, I’m just asking how you learned to give a blowjob like that, like fuck, you had me coming in like,” 

“Ten minutes,” Harry kissed him. “You aren’t the record breaker, don’t worry.” 

Zayn uncovered himself and looked at Harry, really looked at him. They didn’t break a stare for a good twenty seconds before he relented again, pulling Harry down for another kiss. “You’re so beautiful.” 

“Are you kidding?” He mouthed, and whimpered when Zayn grabbed his ass. “You’re so fucking sexy, Jesus Christ, like you’re even sexier now that I know everything.” 

“Nice,” Zayn smiled wide, sticking out his tongue and laughing, making Harry sit on his lap as he sat up. “So…you wanna go again or…?” 

Harry acted like he was thinking about it, and Zayn rolled his eyes. “Okay.” 

“Jeez Louise,” Zayn growled before flipping them over. “You know what I’ve always wanted to try?” 

Harry giggled, still a little bit fucked out, “What?” 

Zayn kissed him and then down his torso until he was kneeling in front of Harry, splitting his knees, “You know that thing where guys can come untouched just from fingering? Like that spot?” 

Harry groaned, “You’re gonna make me come untouched again? It’s not easy, y’know,” 

Zayn wrapped Harry’s legs around his waist and smiled mischievously. “Let me get the lube?” 

Harry was so flushed neither could tell if he blushed from that or not, “Okay.” 

Zayn popped the cap open, dramatically pouring some on his fingers while lifting his eyes to stare Harry down every few seconds. It quickly got old, “Okay okay, we get it, you’re a sex god.” 

“Babe, how am I supposed to fit in here?” Zayn suddenly pressed his index into Harry without a warning, his honey voice releasing filth again. “Fuck, you’re still so tight, baby, you good?” 

“I good,” Harry hid his face in the pillow. “Zee,” 

Zayn lifted his head and looked at him. “Did you just give me a nickname?” 

Harry cocked his head at him, “Don’t people call you that?” 

Zayn fluttered his eyes, clearly astonished, so he guessed that was a no. Harry was about to giggle when a second finger was pushed in alongside the first, and together they were on the quest. “Fuck.” 

“I feel like I know where it is, but I’m deciding on whether or not to tease you a little more,” Zayn pondered loudly, and Harry’s eye twitched. He sat up and grabbed Zayn’s wrist, directing his fingers to exactly where they should be. 

“You know, I read an article about prostate massages and as it turns out, you can’t just poke and prod at it—“ 

“Ah!” Harry gripped the sheets. 

“Heh,” Zayn grinned. “You kind of have to really massage it, you know? Like, press pretty hard and stuff,” 

Harry was already crying, “Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—“ 

Zayn shushed him, pulling his fingers out and trying to ignore Harry’s sad whine. He positioned his body right next to Harry’s, cradling his head on his arm while the other hand went right back in between his legs. “I got you, baby, it’s okay. Feel good?” He kissed his head. 

Harry moaned and hid his face in Zayn’s chest. 

“You must be feeling good, got your toes curling and everythin’,” Zayn rubbed his back with his left whilst fingering Harry with his right, firmly letting him know that he wasn’t to escape this even if he wanted to. “Let me see your face, babes.” 

Harry shook his head, arching his back when Zayn began to roll it underneath his fingers, “Fuck you,” 

Zayn laughed and kissed his head again, “You must be feeling really good.” 

Harry was. It was like the breath was being knocked out of him and someone was edging him on from a new place, and Zayn wasn’t exactly being gentle with it. “Zayn, please.” 

“Yeah baby, just come,” Zayn smirked, enjoying this. “S’alright, I have you,” He pressed harder and Harry made a sound like he’d just been punched, toes nearly white from clenching. “I love you, baby.” 

Then Harry came, loudly, lifting and showing Zayn his face as the whole world went white, spurting come all over their stomachs. “Zayn!” 

“I know, I have you,” Zayn cooed, kissing him as he continued to tremble in his arms. “You’re so beautiful, fuck.” 

They spent a couple of minutes just holding each other as Harry came back down, blinking frantically as to not let himself slip under. It was easier when he knew Zayn was kissing and biting his neck and his large hands were wrapped around his body. “I’m getting you back for this.” 

Zayn chuckled, “Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” Harry frowned, but it ended up looking more like a pout, which only made it cuter. “Right now.” 

“Right now?” Zayn stammered as Harry flipped them over so that he was sitting on his lap and reached over for another condom, ripping it hurriedly with his teeth. “Oh shit, right now right now?” 

Harry nodded, aggressively running the condom down Zayn’s dick, not caring if he winced. “You’re gonna pay for that.” 

“Oh, am I?” Zayn lifted his eyebrows, and Harry’s eye twitched. “God, you’re so cute when you’re mad.” 

“Fuck you,” Harry squeezed lube on Zayn and it was cold. “Yeah, that’s what you get.” 

“You’re gonna ride me, is that what’s happening?” Zayn gripped Harry’s hip and smiled when he slapped his hand away. “Aren’t you tired, babe?” 

“No, fuck you,” Harry lifted himself over and lined his dick up, blinking with an unsure expression on his face. He got the head in before lifting off of it, looking flustered and overwhelmed. There was a few minutes more of that until he pouted, “Zayn?” 

“Yeah, gotchu,” Zayn sat up, giving Harry a kiss before lining himself up again and gently easing Harry down onto him, encouraging him by planting soft kisses all over his chest. “Love you, Hazza.” 

Harry glared at him, obviously trying to reject just how much he loved the way it sounded, “Fuck you, Zayn.” 

Zayn pouted, “No ‘Zee?’ I liked ‘Zee,’ call me ‘Zee,’ Hazza.” He sat Harry down completely, making him yelp in surprise. 

“You asshole,” He gasped, but pushed Zayn down nonetheless with determination. He began to move himself with his hands still on Zayn’s chest, eyelashes fluttering every time he sat back down. Needless to say, it was quite telling that he’d only been penetrated for the first time in his life two hours ago. 

(Jesus, they’ve been fucking for that long?) 

“You okay, Hazza?” 

Harry nodded, but looked pensive, so Zayn bent his knees and held Harry’s hips, “C’mon, gimme a kiss.” He waited until Harry leaned down to kiss him before giving a smooth thrust, hands going upwards to wrap around his back protectively. 

“What the fuck,” Harry mouthed on his neck, his own hands gripping the sheets right next to Zayn’s shoulders. “Fuck, right there.” 

“Right here?” Zayn was working overtime for sure, but if Harry wanted to, he could probably keep going for another few hours. He lifted his hips up right where Harry said it felt best, and knew he found it when he clamped tightly around him and the world went white for a second. “Fuck, okay.” 

“Zayn, I dun’ think I can come for a fourth time,” Harry said nervously, but Zayn laughed. 

“Don’t worry, you can.” 

“What.” 

Zayn smiled and kissed him, continuing to pull Harry’s hips down as he lifted his own, at this punishing pace so that Harry could never find someone better.

(God, he’s so insecure.) 

((Perhaps that’s why God laughed.)) 

“Zayn, Zaaaaaayn,” Harry complained, getting sensitive and prickly. “Can’t, can’t do it.” 

Zayn turned them onto their side and lifted Harry’s leg, “Yeah, you can. Trust me.” 

Harry reached behind him and grabbed Zayn’s head, not really knowing why but feeling like he had to hold onto something for purchase. 

Finally, Zayn wrapped a hand around Harry’s dick and began to stroke him along with his thrusts, that’s what made Harry eventually explode and come for a fourth time, fucking him through it like the sex god he was and coming into the condom whilst biting Harry’s shoulder. 

“‘re amazing,” Harry blubbered nonsensically, “You…” 

“I love you,” Zayn said it again, really hoping Harry would say it back this time. 

“Are you fucking kidding me? I love you more than you love me,” Harry slurred, getting sleepy at an exponential rate. “I was in love with you for so lonnnng,” 

“Yeah? Well,” Zayn frowned, “I love you the most, so.” 

“Oh, fuck off, we’re so annoying.” Harry giggled, pressing their foreheads together. 

“So how would you rate your first time?” Zayn asked, trying to make it sound like a joke when in all honesty he was going to take whatever Harry said to heart. 

Harry pecked him a couple times, “It wasn’t what I expected at all,” Zayn smiled. “I’m just happy it was you.” 

His smiled faded. “So wait, the sex was bad?” 

Harry rolled his eyes, “Oh my god, you idiot.” 

“I’m just saying, Benji and Matthew and whoever the fuck else—could never. Never.” 

“Yes baby, whatever you need to tell yourself to get over this complex of all the guys I’ve dated—“ 

“Excuse me, I don’t have a complex,” Zayn sounded aghast, but Harry just kept on laughing. 

“No, it’s all good,” Harry shrugged. “I have a complex about Niall getting within fifty feet from you, so, we are both irrational and inexplicable.” 

“Mm, big words,” Zayn kissed his head. “That’s sexy.” 

* * *

“Hi princess!” Zayn squealed, running towards Earl with his arms outstretched. Harry smiled while Whit was cool, looked over and shook her head. “My princess,” 

Earl looked genuinely frightened as Zayn spun around with her in his arms, so instinctively, Harry stretched his arms out without thinking. “Hi, Erylis.” 

She spotted him and wiggled, Zayn complained loudly, but eventually she slipped away and came over to hug Harry. “Hi Mr. Harry!” 

“She’s too friendly,” Whitney laughed. “Sometimes I feel like she’d even give Donald Trump a hug if she met him.” 

“So, so friendly,” Harry giggled, bopping her nose with his finger, and they giggled some more. “How are you today?” 

“Are you feeling better, Mr. Harry?” Earl asked, and Zayn childishly pulled her back into his arms like a teddy bear. “Da—deeeeeeee.” 

Zayn frowned dramatically at her, “You love Harry more than me, don’t you? How will I live, Erlyis, how? Thus with a kiss, I die.” He kissed her face everywhere, despite her screams of protest, and then made an expression with his tongue sticking out to signal that he was dead. 

“Is that from Romeo and Juliet?” Harry asked, sitting down next to them as Earl hung upside down off of Zayn’s knees. “Never pegged you for a Shakespeare fan.” 

“I hate it,” Zayn shook his head. “Took a class in college, I was so bored I ended up reverse psycholog-ing myself and memorized every play we did.” Harry sputtered a laugh at that, and Earl joined in. 

“That does sound like something you would do,” Harry scrunched his nose up when Zayn leaned forwards to kiss it, not realizing that Earl was watching them with wide eyes. 

When they pulled back, she wiggled her feet to remind them that she was still here, and Zayn nearly dropped her in surprise. “Ah, princess!” 

“I’m not your princess,” She tutted, nevertheless letting her father embrace her tightly. “I am your queen monarch.” 

“Wouldn’t mommy be queen monarch?” Harry asked her, brushing the wild hair out of her face. She shook her head at them like they were all so silly. 

“Mommy is God.” 

“Oh. Well, that theory does make sense,” Harry entertained her while Whitney bellowed a laugh from twenty feet away. “She must be God. Has to be. You believe in God, Erlyis?” 

“I believe in mommy.” 

“Okay.” 

Zayn smirked at her like he did a good thing having her exalt her mother in this fashion, and whilst Harry didn’t know how to feel about it, he realized that perhaps this was their own little joke that Earl would never learn to understand. In that regard, it was a brilliant ‘fuck you’ to his parents. 

“Earl, how would you feel if you hung out with Harry a lot?” Zayn asked her, also trying to flap her hair away. They both nervously fidgeted, awaiting her answer. 

Earl was always a very stoic child, didn’t even cry when she was born. So she cocked her head to the side and shrugged cooly, she was too cool for this. “I like Harry, he smells nice and wants to read me books.” 

“I do!” Harry’s voice wavered like he was going to cry, outstretching his arms. “Can I give you a hug?” 

“Yes,” Erlyis giggled and let Harry kiss her head. “You’re a gem.” 

Harry smiled, “How do you feel about taking ballet and opera classes?” 

Zayn looked at him strangely, “Uh…” 

Erlyis smiled brightly, “That sounds cool.” 

“Yay! We can sign you up for them when we get to Los Angeles, your daddy can pay for them.” 

“Can he?” Zayn asked as Harry stood up, and Whitney snorted loudly. “Bro, Whit, come on.” 

She shrugged, not even bothering to take a pause in drafting her email, “She has the energy of a 5-Hour Energy. When we move, you’re gonna deal with her a lot more.” 

“Let’s bake cookies! I love you,” There was squealing heard from the kitchen, Earl screeching delightedly and Harry cackling in a melodious…cacophony. 

“You know Whit, I love you, man,” Zayn came over and hugged her from behind. “You’re the best. Our daughter is so fucking cute.” 

Whitney patted his hand, “Now you make her pretty or summat so that if she ever runs into trouble she can sign a deal with Disney or something. Actor family. Market her into a millionaire. I swear to God.” She looked at him seriously. “But I mean, even if you don’t do that, I have a feeling she’ll do it all herself.” 

Zayn was stunned, but nodded, “Yeah, she’s pretty incredible. I bet she’d be a natural talent.” 

Whitney laughed, she always had the most perfect laugh out of everyone he’s known, “I love you too, Zayn. I’m lucky to have been stuck with such a kind and genuine idiot.” 

Harry came back into the living room, frantically chasing Erlyis around. She had butter on her face and was wielding the whisk like it was a weapon. “Viva la Revolucion!” 

“How old are you again?” Harry was out of breath, “Jesus, you’re fast.” 

* * *

_ **Six months later. ** _

“I want to see bones, if there ain’t any bones, I leavin’,” Earl said in a character voice as Zayn fastened her into her carseat. “Good mo’ning, guv’nah,” She said loudly into his ear. 

“What was in your water this morning?” Zayn groaned, ruffling her head. “Usually it takes a few more hours before you get to total crackhead levels.” 

“Can you please not call your daughter a crackhead?” 

Zayn turned around, a smile erupting uncontrollably from his face and walked closer. “Good morning, my love.” 

“Yeah, that never gets old,” Harry giggled, squeezing Zayn’s cheeks with his hands before leaning in for a kiss. “Good morning, my sunshine.” 

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine,” Earl sang off-key and an octave higher. “You make me haPPY—“ 

“Shush, you crackhead.” Harry groaned and handed her a biscuit, which instantly shut her up. They got into the car, pulling out of their driveway. 

It was such a beautiful day, Harry almost felt queasy with how perfect it was. Their house in West Hollywood, their four dogs rescued from Southeast Asia, and a whole lot of loving ensued so quickly that life seemed as though it was a movie. A happy movie, and up until now, Harry’s always convinced himself he was meant to be the victim in an angst drama. 

He looked over and saw the guy he met nearly five years ago, his face so comically concentrated on driving that his brow was furrowed, looking slightly constipated. Gosh, that was Zayn. 

The Zayn who was a sex god when people told him to be, and when the cameras turned off, he was the epitome of an adventure. One time, he took Harry to four different art museums and party hopped six times in the span of the day, and maybe it was because he drank three Redbulls, or maybe it was because Zayn’s electricity just flowed through whenever they touched and suddenly, Harry didn’t feel tired and he never wanted the days to end. 

Zayn who can’t stick to one topic in a conversation for the life of him. Zayn who hates confronting things but confronts them anyways. Zayn who paid his eight backup lives to be with someone like him. 

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” He asked, turning his head to squint at Harry. “Something on my face?” 

“Nah,” Harry shook his head, leaning his chin on his palm. “Just daydreaming, I guess.” 

“Me too, been daydreaming a lot lately,” Zayn paused at a red light so he could pull Harry’s sleeve for a kiss. “Always ‘bout you, y’know?” 

“We are like, so young, but we’ve already joined the old gay WeHo club,” Harry sighed, turning around to see why Earl was so quiet. “She’s out.” 

“Good.” Zayn admitted, and they both laughed. 

“Excited for the premiere? I can’t believe it’s finally coming out,” Harry exhaled heavily, thrumming his fingers on the dashboard. “Feels like we did that thing years ago.” 

Zayn shook his head. “Nah, it feels like yesterday.”

Harry’s heart panged and his body tingled, so much so that he almost couldn’t handle it. “I love you.” 

“I love you.” 

They pulled into a parking lot, the sound of the car turning off making Earl leap in her seat. “Daddy?” 

“Yeah, dove, I got you,” Zayn opened the door and unfastened her, pulling her up into his arms. “Are you sure this is what you want for your birthday?” 

“Yes.” Erlyis said without any hesitation. 

Harry pinched her cheek, “Well, you can’t see the dinosaurs with your eyes closed.” 

She blinked exaggeratedly at him, kicking her feet as Zayn walked up the stairs to the Natural History Museum. “If there ain’t any bones…” 

“Oh, there are definitely bones. Take a look.” Zayn set her down and spun her around, and her eyes went comically wide, the looming skeleton of a T-Rex staring her right in the face. 

“Wow.” She whispered, Harry and Zayn snickered and took a picture. 

“Look, taxidermy,” Harry pointed to a hall, resulting in a sharp gasp and the sound of little feet running. “Don’t run, it’s rude.” He laughed, but made sure to turn around to look at Zayn. 

Zayn was crying. 

“Babe? What’s wrong?” Harry came up right in front of him, and Zayn looked down so that their eyes met. He sniffled and wiped his eyes. “Zayn?” 

“I can’t believe I’m here,” Zayn whispered, sobbing quietly into Harry’s neck. “You’re not a dream.” 

“Yeah, I’m not,” Harry wrapped his arms around his broad back as best as he could, kissing his cheek. “You’re here.” 

“It’s the most mundane, silly thing ever. I’m a fucking dad, and I’m publicly kissing Harry Styles, in a goddamn museum, but,” He stopped, a hand reaching up to caress his face. “I’m so happy.” 

“I’m happy too,” Harry smiled and cradled his head further into Zayn’s hand. “We’re about to lose Earl, c’mon.” 

* * *

“Be good for grandma, okay?” Harry ruffled Earl’s hair and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “Daddy and Mommy and I will be back before you know it.” 

“My precious step-granddaughter,” Anne sniveled, holding Erlyis close to her chest. “My god, she’s immaculate.” 

“Please don’t dress her in something weird, mom,” Harry pinched his nose, looking at himself in the mirror and scowling. “God, I look terrible.” 

“You look like a true actor,” His mom told him. “You are a true actor, and don’t you ever stop believing it.” 

“We’re going to be late,” Whitney gently stepped down the stairs one by one in her long heels, fantastic evening gown creating a silhouette of a life that Harry still didn’t feel like was his. “Zayn! C’mon, man!” 

“Alright alright,” Zayn bounded down the stairs, nearly flying face first onto the ground when he saw Harry. They stopped to look at each other for a moment, taking it all in, and for some reason, it was like they’ve laid eyes on each other for the very first time. 

If you asked either of them, this is probably what they’d say about how they wanted it to go down when they first met: 

HARRY

Hi, I’m Harry. 

ZAYN

Hi, I’m Zayn. I’ve watched your show. 

HARRY

I’m a fan of your movies. 

ZAYN

I think you’re cute, Harry, let’s get dinner. 

HARRY

Yeah, let’s get dinner. 

Funny how life never goes the way that one would assume it would go, and it took so goddamn long for them to finally reintroduce themselves like they would’ve wanted to all those years back. 

“We get it, you’re both beautiful.” Whitney rolled her eyes, kissing Earl’s face and giving her love. 

“Holy shit,” Zayn whispered, clapping a hand over his mouth. “I’ve never seen you in a tux.” 

“You look better than your Getty Images,” Harry choked out, and Zayn practically leaped into his arms. “Gosh, you’ll ruin it. This suit is bespoke, babe.” 

Zayn breathed in, “You saying ‘this suit is bespoke, babe’ just might be my religion,” He wrapped an arm around Harry’s waist, walking out the door where the car was waiting for them. “I love you.” 

“Hm, the real test is keeping your hand on my waist even when the flash is too bright,” Harry joked, waggling his eyebrows at Zayn. “Everyone’s just going to get mad about the ending of this movie now that they know we’re together in real life.” 

“Let them be mad.” Zayn shrugged, and they headed for the event. On the ride there, he stuck his hand into his pocket and took out a box, rubbing it with his thumb nervously the whole way. 

They got to the premiere, looking gorgeous and idyllic. Zayn’s hand never left Harry’s, and that box never failed to remind him of its presence every time he bent his leg whilst walking up the shallow stairs. They took their seats as Whitney headed for the free bar, and Harry brought their hands up so he could kiss his. “I love you, Eli.” 

“Oh, those were the words I was missing,” Zayn drawled and Harry laughed against his chest, his nose pressed to his face. Nowadays, he thought he’d die without this kind of closeness, even tightly gripping their hands together wasn’t enough. 

The movie played, the audience clapped, and the director jogged up to the stage. 

“Hi, I’m Billy, but you already knew that,” Everyone laughed. “This was an adventurous project for me, I’ve always been known as the ratty old director who never makes new stuff, but when someone handed this project to me I just couldn’t resist. Never did I imagine that I’d snag Zayn motherflippin’ Malik and Harry Styles to be the main characters. They played falling in love so well that they tried it out in real life, and I guess it’s working out. Everyone point and embarrass them, yeah, that’s it.” 

Zayn covered his face while Harry covered himself behind Zayn. 

“Jesus, they’re so in love. You just made a million grown women sob,” Billy laughed. “But you know, tonight’s not really about me. As it turns out, someone wants to come up and say something.” 

Harry looked around curiously, looking back at his program for where this impromptu speaker was on the agenda. It was a few more seconds before the man next to him stood up, and Harry looked over to see Zayn walking out into the middle of the aisle, holding out his hand. 

“Huh?” 

Everyone laughed. 

Zayn looked nervous and a little shiny, “Can you uh, take my hand? Or else I’m going to be really embarrassed.” 

Everyone laughed. 

Harry blinked at him before dropping his program and standing up, the entire audience’s applause thundering the large theater. “What’s going on?” They intertwined fingers. 

Zayn couldn’t even answer, his heart was in his throat. They awkwardly walked onto the stage, where Billy handed Zayn a mic and patted his back. He let in a deep breath before turning around to face Harry. 

“Hi,” 

“Hi?” Harry was so confused, and everyone could see it. 

“Uh,” Zayn scratched the back of his neck. “I had something memorized, but of course I’d freaking forget it right now.” Sandra walked up to him with a crisp piece of paper, the only sound in the entire room were her Loubotins clicking. “So.” 

“So,” Harry was petrified, he hadn’t been up on a theatre stage in so long. “Uh,” 

“Yeah, uh,” Zayn looked over the paper, biting his lower lip. 

“Oh my fucking god, just say it already!” Louis screeched from somewhere in the audience, and the entire crowd bellowed in laughter. 

“As it turns out, drilling ‘Othello’ for five years still doesn’t help with memorization, folks,” Zayn said into the mic. “Thanks for nothing, Professor Shakespeare of a $72,000 a year school.” 

Everyone laughed. 

Zayn looked at Harry again, “But honestly, if busing tables and working graveyard shifts was the work I had to put in to get here, I’d do it all again. Because God knows I’d want to meet this person right here in front of me again and again. In the next life, and maybe even the life after that.” 

“I first met you in Scotland a few years ago when we worked on a project together and it was seriously love at first sight, I couldn’t get you out of my head for the next three years, it’s pathetic and sad, but it’s true.”

“You see, I’m the type of guy who has a hard time accepting things the way they should be, which is strange, because usually it’s the other way around. My whole life I’ve just been accepting the things the way they were, and that sucked, I was miserable and I was lonely.” 

“I fell in love so many times and got my heart broken so many times, and finally I just gave up and tricked myself into thinking, I quote myself, ‘I realized that when people say you gotta let go of the ones you love, what they really mean is to give them a head start in running away from you. Because I'm the one they need to let go, not the other way around. I'm the last mile in the marathon; the obstacle before the finish line, so it's okay if you leave too.’ But when I met you Harry, I hoped with every fiber of my being that I wasn’t that annoying bar on the track field.” 

Harry interrupted him, “Wait a minute, wait a minute. Who told you I was running?” Louis cackled somewhere. “I can't run. I have asthma, you dumb fuck. So I ain't going nowhere, even if you wanted me gone." 

Everyone clapped while Zayn looked like he was ready to cry, and shit, they both were. 

“Uh,” Zayn swallowed and cleared his throat. 

“Continue, you have a lot left,” Harry giggled, biting his lip. 

“Yeah, shit, I didn’t realize I could write this much. Maybe that stupid class was not for you to master Shakespeare, but become him. Ew, Jesus,” Zayn said to the audience. “But listen, Harry.” 

“I’m listening, don’t worry.” 

Zayn smiled small. “Man, I knew I was in love with you the second you made a metaphor about gay cats and ate peanut butter covered Oreos with me and washed them down with a whole glass of whiskey. I knew I was right about you when I saw you that first day on set being the most polite and kind person everyone felt lucky to work with. I knew you were it for me when you just kept coming back, and every time, it was like I was meeting a brand new version of Harry, and that made me want to keep on being dynamic and flowing myself so that one day, I could be a brand new Zayn.” 

“A Zayn that’s never afraid. Someone who would hold your hand in public and not give a damn about what anyone had to say, not even my mom. Harry, from the very beginning, you represented all the things that I could never fathom being, and here I am, feeling a little bit braver.” 

“This speech is so fucking long, but it’s not long enough. You’re gorgeous and you’re funny and you love my kid—yes, everyone, I have a daughter, go crazy—and it was the very first time that someone made me feel like a human. It was funny seeing you in that giant apartment all by yourself, with all those expensive furniture pieces and that’s when I realized that you were just like me; accepting things the way they were and never the way they should be. But look at you, Actor of the Year.” Zayn twirled Harry around. 

“I love you so goddamn much, and you make me feel electric.” 

Harry gaped, “You make me feel electric.” 

“Phew,” Zayn joked and came forward to wipe Harry’s tears away. “Well, I guess I’m just trying to say that I love you.” 

Harry sniffed, “I love you too.” 

“And I want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Zayn choked out, and now everyone was crying. “Harry Styles—“ 

“Yes,” Harry cut him off, and everyone in the audience choked in their hysterical-sobbing laughter situation. “Oh wait, sorry.” 

“Will you marry me?” Zayn shook his head and laughed, tongue sticking out between his teeth when Harry jumped into his arms, falling a couple steps backwards. 

“Jesus, y’all deserved an Oscar just from that.” Billy smiled, taking the mic back. 

Zayn held Harry’s face and kissed him gently, then again and again, lost in their world until the former snapped out of it, “Wait, WAIT!” He ran and grabbed the mic, “Before you all leave,” 

Everyone stared at him aggressively. They were famished. They fasted the whole day to look this good. 

Zayn quickly got on one knee and took the box out of his pocket, opening it to reveal a Titanium wedding ring. Harry took it out gingerly, noticing that there was an engraving on the inside, ‘Look up here, I’m in…’ 

“Heaven,” Harry laughed in disbelief. “You’re so cheesy, David Bowie is rolling his eyes in his grave.” 

“Thanks,” Zayn scrunched his nose up, and them waved everyone to leave. “So, I’ve been meaning to ask,” 

“How should we hypenate—“ 

“—Can I adopt Earl?” 

“Oh, you first,” Zayn kissed him. 

“Can I adopt Earl? So like, three parents?” Harry asked, and Zayn sputtered in laughter. 

“She already has two giant houses side by side and four giant dogs and an inheritance of dot dot dot,” Zayn rolled his eyes. “But of course you can be her third parent.” 

“Okay,” Harry giggled. 

“How should we hyphenate our names?” 

“Malik-Styles.”

“Uh, I was thinking more of Styles-Malik.” They walked after the ravenous crowd, hand in hand. 

“No, Malik-Styles.” 

“Or maybe you can be Harry Malik,” 

“Hell no,” 

“Okay fine, Harry Edward Styles Malik.” 

“It’s not the 17th century, my last name is not becoming a middle name.” 

“...I hope all our arguments are like this,” Zayn sniffled. “About stupid shit, because we’re stupid.” 

“Yeah, I hope so too,” Harry snorted. 

_By the time I got to New York_

_I was living like a king_

_There I'd used up all my money_

_I was looking for your ass_

_This way or no way_

_You know, I'll be free_

_Just like that bluebird_

_Now, ain't that just like me?_

_Oh, I'll be free_

_Just like that bluebird_

_Oh, I'll be free_

_Ain't that just like me?_

ROLL CREDITS. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shameless plug so I have a new fic out called “i’m afraid of americans” and it’s a spin-off of “There Were So Many Sunflowers” but…more organized and a lot more different lol and I know it’s probably prissy to ask if y’all could check it out heh he..heh… i’m mucho proud of it mucho thank god bless 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed, love you.  
-j


	9. important and extremely anxiety filled announcement! (same as the one posted on atha)

Hello guys! I thought that I would come out here and make an announcement and see how you guys are doing.

I know this is a very scary time for everyone, and a time to not be taken lightly. I sincerely hope that each and every one of you is taking proper safety precautions, social distancing, and finding lots of ways to spend time inside. If you or any of your close family members are  
sick or are more susceptible than the general population, I sympathize with you, am praying for you, and wishing with all my heart for it to get better.

I know that this isn’t the tightest, most intimate community on AO3 here. It’s more of a lawless port filled with creative liberties and a place to stay anonymous. But it you’re comfortable with it, let me know down in the comments how you’re doing! Let me know what you’re doing to keep yourself occupied, how you’re staying informed, and what fanfics you’re currently reading! I am ALWAYS on the lookout for new gems to bookmark. Send them my way, gimme gimme.

Now, on another note, I have something to ask of you guys. I currently have a lot of ideas in my folder of stories that I’d like to share with you, but am afraid of some topics that might not be taken well within my usual crowd of readers. (Love you guys, by the way.)

I am someone who is unsurprised by most, and is willing to go to the farthest depths of creativity to improve my craft. Things like ABO don’t scare me, as well as literally 75% of the crazy shit people post on this site. I’m all for it, because again, it’s a place to experiment and find new avenues to tell an entertaining story!

So let me know down in the comments what you personally think about

-Zayn/Harry/Liam/Louis/Niall five way relationship fic  
-Intersex Omegas  
-Zayn/Niall  
-Bottom Harry (since I know people tend to prefer Bottom Zayn)

because all of these ideas are currently in the works right now. However, I’d hate to publish something and have it not understood. Thank you again for reading, letting me know that you’d read my work, and just being alive. It means so much to me that every single one of you is out there!

Let’s make it a group family thingy. Let’s all keep in touch on this site, because I guarantee you there is nothing that inspires me to write more than seeing you guys react to it. Love you all.

Lots of Love,  
Jellie.


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